Summer Break
by debdeb
Summary: Dan spends the summer of 2011 trying to get over Blair, with little success. He begins and ends the summer in The Hamptons, but spends a significant August week in Brooklyn and Manhattan, where he runs unexpectedly into Blair. Set after 04x22. Written that summer, before Season 5.
1. May, June, and July

Summer Break 

Chapter 1 (May, June, and July)

They wasted no time getting out of the city. Eric was grateful for some time away from the Van der Woodsen/Humphrey apartment, of late Sing Sing, UES Campus. Lily was adjusting to her ankle bracelet (so avant garde) and the confinement that went with it. But Eric still worried that his last summer before college would be compromised as preparation for Sarah Lawrence in the fall was bound to become one of her house arrest "projects." Rufus understood, and quietly, selflessly approved of the prison escape. Dan's sudden interest in the Hamptons still left him perplexed, but he hoped the change of scenery would end his son's funk.

Summer in the Hamptons, away from the extreme heat and manic bustle of the city, started out as expected. Lots of time at the beach. Afternoons at the pool. Lather, rinse, repeat. Neither was anxious to hit the party circuit, but Eric was making some effort to be social...and actually leaving the house and grounds.

Dan, however, brought his own summer survival supplies (books-check; laptop-check). The pantry always seemed to be stocked by the invisible staff. Other than the occasional coffee run, he was set for the duration. He had a tight, movie-watching schedule to keep and was loathe to divert from it.

Eric playfully teased him the first couple of weeks, hoping to help ease him out of his Blair...preoccupation. He hoped that Monaco Blair would simply be too busy to interact much with Dan, but the opposite seemed to be true. What started out as a weekly movie activity quickly compounded.

"Dan, for someone who swore off writing, you have spent most of June pounding away on your laptop," Eric commented one Friday morning over cereal. Dan did not even look up, just mumbled "Blair is on a French New Wave tear, and she has found my last several discourses lacking."

"It sounds like you need to pick something a little less cerebral for your next selection."

He finally looked up, and seemed genuinely anguished. "I can't do that. It is like she is daring me to back down. As it is, she is planning a royal wedding, attending multiple state functions a week, plotting world domination, and schooling my ass on French cinema. This is literally all I have to do...and, and...I'm failing miserably."

"Dan, this is supposed to be a relaxing summer. I've seen you less stressed during finals."

"Mmm hmm," head back down, with fingers feverishly typing.

A little later, "So I am still heading into the city this afternoon to have dinner with my mom and Rufus tonight. Remember, I am staying the weekend. Do you maybe want to come with? Dan?"

Eric knew the answer before he even asked the question. He made one last effort later, as he was walking out the door. But Dan and his beard seemed intractable. "At least he's moved outside by the pool," Eric thought while getting in the Town Car.

Dan had resisted calling her when they first arrived. And then he dialed her cell phone reflexively, without thinking, late one night when he ran across "Rosemary's Baby" quite by accident. Fortunately for him, the seven hour time difference meant it was 8:00 AM Blair time, and, a stroke of luck, she had a rare opening in her day's agenda for him. "Rosemary's Baby" was soon forgotten as Blair filled him in on her most recent princess adventures. She could have been reading the phone book or counting by threes, Dan did not care. He missed her and the sound of her voice, and as always, he drew the greatest joy from absorbing the ebb and flow of that voice, the staccato rise of something she was excited about or the sudden tonal drop that signaled conspiracy. His favorite was always the bemused tone she took when humoring him. The occasional "Humphrey, are you listening?" (Conciliatory, with a hint of annoyance) would guiltily draw him out of his aural reverie. It seemed like months since they had parted ways from brunch at Lily's. Instead, it had been just 17 days.

Only later, while trying to go to sleep, but stubbornly, endlessly, obsessively reviewing their conversation over and over again, did he try and pinpoint when she had become his first thought. His first call. And when did cell phone calls (in the middle of the night, even, from Dan Humphrey) become acceptable with Blair Waldorf?

Away from her, with some space between him and her e-mails, or even harder, in the wake of her recent phone calls, he kept trying to convince himself that it all needed to stop, and that determination was surely within his power. He was out of the city and in the Hamptons in order to take control and exact some positive, personal change. Poor Eric had already weathered many late night discussions and afternoon post-movie wrap-ups, doing his best to reason, cajole, sway a neurotic wannabe writer with one foot in Brooklyn and one in the Upper East Side (and currently summering with the beautiful people in the Hamptons). And all Dan had succeeded in doing was wearing Eric down so much that a weekend at Sing Sing, UES Campus, seemed like a vacation in comparison to this existence.

He had had an epiphany, a startling moment of clarity, wandering the frigid streets of Manhattan. He found his way to her home. In the midst of Upper East Side drama and catastrophe, they had shared a kiss, passionate and unexpected, honest and true. His brief hesitancy had given way to the decisive, take charge woman he so admired, and he followed her lead, after his initial faltering, for fear of jeopardizing their tenuous friendship they had fostered those last few, precious months.

That kiss. Her delicate hands, suddenly strong and full of purpose, on his coat lapels drawing him to her, then around his neck and in his hair. Pulling him closer and holding him fast. One of his hands tentatively on her collarbone, then her arm, and finally tangled in her hair, and the other around her waist. It had been a revelation.

Or so he thought. The record came to a screeching halt. She spent a week in bed, incommunicado...and then she sought out Chuck. His naive hopes were crushed, but then rekindled in a fleeting moment, in her indictment of Chuck's scheming, immature ways. Dan had promised her a prince, wanting more than anything for her to find happiness, quietly hoping that it might be him. And in a twist of fate possible only to a cursed, forever-doomed Brooklyn Humphrey, one stepped into her fairytale, captured her heart, and whisked her away to an honest-to-goodness castle in a faraway land. Only Blair had the shear force of will to make a fairytale come true. Too bad he was her court jester.

Dan had this conversation with himself multiple times a day. She seemed over the moon at the fairytale she always wanted and that he knows she deserves. He was truly happy for her. And infinitely sorry for himself. So pathetic. So Dan Humphrey.

And yet, was he wrong, but had he sensed a recent, subtle change? Or was it just wishful thinking? He was beyond objectivity. His perception changed by the hour. That first week they watched "The Landlord." The next week, two more movies. They were up to three a week for this week and last. And since that first call to her, she frequently called him (and far more often than he dared call her). But doubt inevitably settled back in and he would chalk it up to her feeling sorry for him, with her in France, Serena in California, Nate holding Chuck's leash God knows where.

His cell phone rang and he recognized her ring tone immediately. A smile crossed his face for the first time that day. A sign? Probably not. But temporary salvation, and a little denial never hurt anyone, right? He realized just how weak he was. And for the moment, in that moment, realized he also did not care.

"Humphrey, what are you doing sitting at home on a Friday night?"

"Blair, how did you-"

"How many times have I told you, I always know."

"In my defense, it is only like 7:30. You don't know that I might be on my way out." (Weak. Unlikely. He knew. And worse, she certainly would.) "Why are you up this late? Isn't it past the royal curfew?"

Blair sighed. "It is France, Humphrey. 2:30 is hardly late here."

"But I know how much you like your beauty rest and like to keep a schedule."

"You also know sleep will not keep me from accomplishing all that I desire."

"Then why aren't you at some soiree?"

"Well, actually I was having the most splendid time at the ball honoring the British Ambassador. But then I had the most awful run-in with Louis's sister. It seems that she is still having some issues with my 'pedigree' and my 'motives' for marrying Louis." She could barely choke the words out. "And my French! Can you believe that? I actually heard her remark to one of her cronies about how provincial my accent sounded. Can you imagine? Never mind the fact that I am fully capable of following this conversation, IN FRENCH! What do I have to do to prove my worth to this woman...Why are you laughing? Don't make me come over there and exact some revenge by proxy."

(If only, he thought.)

"It is a little ironic, though, isn't it? She has minions! You might as well be me at St. Jude's. Or me now anytime I travel above Midtown. It is actually something I have had a lot of opportunity to consider-"

"Not the same, Humphrey," Blair interrupted.

He tried a different tact. "What does Louis say?"

"Oh, what he always says. To be patient. He loves me, and that is all that matters. But life is not that simple, is it?"

"It should be. But I know how important it is for you to have the acceptance of all of Louis's family. Maybe he is right...you just need more time to win-"

"Time is a limited resource...and I will waste no more of it tonight. What shall we watch?"

"I thought you would never ask."

Eric was back Sunday night. He had lots to report from home, but Dan immediately asked Eric about his call to Blair. He played the innocent at first, but finally fessed up.

"She called you? I'm sorry...she promised she wouldn't. I was killing some time on the ride into the city. I first called Serena, who did not answer. So I called Blair to ask if she had heard from Serena. She had spoken to her last week about sketches for her bridesmaid dress ("sorry" shrug at the indirect reference to the wedding), but had not heard from her in the last few days."

"And?"

"And, she may have asked about our lack of activities this summer. I get the feeling she thinks that we could be more productive."

"Martha Stewart is a slacker in Blair's book. What else?"

"And, she asked if you were writing. And maybe if you had been seeing anyone. And if you had talked to Serena."

Alarmed on multiple fronts, Dan asked "What did you say?"

"Well, I told her you had been hard at work at the computer...she didn't press about what. I tried to be vague about if you had been seeing anyone...of course as soon as I mentioned your beard, she saw right through me."

"Figures."

"I hope I didn't say anything wrong..."

"No. Don't worry about it. I got an earful from her...but mostly about the grief she continues to get from some of Louis's relatives. It was actually nice to talk to her. "

"Dan," intoned with Eric's sternest warning voice.

"I know, I know." Dan was always a glutton for Blair's punishment.

"Well, I am holding you to your promise of parties in the Hamptons. There is a big Fourth of July celebration planned that my mom told me about...it is beach casual, barbecue and beer, and fireworks. And I promised your dad I would get you there, no matter what."

"That does sound like fun...I am sorry I have been such a wet-blanket."

"Big changes are coming for you in July, Dan."

As pledged, Dan attended the big Fourth of July party, hosted by old friends of CeCe Rhodes, not far up the beach from the house, with Eric. Clearly, no expense was spared. "Barbecue" seemed too quaint a word for this party. And Dan was immediately ill at ease, wishing he had shaved and hoping for a bolt of lightning to put him out of his misery. Alas, the night remained clear.

Eric reminded him of his wingman promise made weeks prior, and Dan, with sudden purpose, fully committed to his new occupation. By evening's end, Eric had three phone numbers, including that of a rising sophomore (Lukas Armitage) at Sarah Lawrence. Dan spotted Eric with Lukas just as the Fourth of July fireworks off Southampton started. They looked cozy, and not wanting to play third wheel, he texted Eric that he was heading home.

He started down the beach, away from the festivities, pausing briefly to watch a few volleys of the fireworks. On a whim, he pulled out his cell phone and captured some of the spectacle. He thumbed through the images, selected the best one, and e-mailed it to Blair, with an uncharacteristically succinct Humphrey message: "Thought you might be missing something this Fourth of July." He did not...could not...answer when she called him within five minutes.

Three days later, there was a package delivered to him at the beach house. Eric recognized the sender as a tony department store in Paris. Inside, Dan found the most beautifully wrapped gift box he had ever seen. Satin-lined, it contained a gold razor, a fine badger-bristled shaving brush, shaving soaps, and shaving cream. The card simply read: "Shave immediately. We'll address those wild curls of yours soon enough." Dan's blood ran cold, then hot in an instant. Terrified and turned-on in the same heartbeat. "How does she do that?" he wondered.

Eric smiled, but did not comment on Dan's clean-shaven face the next morning.

And it was Eric who finally pieced it together, only after Serena called the following week. She asked about the party, sounding wistful for the first time in months about missing an event back East. She had seen pictures on _Page Six _online, and at least one posted on Gossip Girl. Eric doubted Blair would read the_ Post_, but checked Gossip Girl and found a picture of him and Dan (who, good soldier that he was, had managed a wan smile under that unruly beard of his).


	2. August, Part 1

Summer Break 

Chapter 2 (August, Part 1)

Rufus convinced Dan to return to the city in early August, at least for a few days, in the guise of a favor. Freshmen Orientation at Sarah Lawrence was upon them and Rufus would be joining Eric as Lily and her ankle-monitor would still be restricted to the apartment for a few more weeks. With Serena still in California, Rufus hated to leave Lily by herself under those circumstances, knowing how disappointed she was at missing Eric's first collegiate function, so Dan was drafted.

Dan and Eric rode down together the night before. Dan decided to stay at the loft, so the Town Car dropped him off first. He brought back a load of books so that he would not have to move everything back down at the end of the summer.

It had been ten weeks since he'd been in Brooklyn (and twelve weeks since he'd seen Blair, not that he was counting). The loft looked cleaner than he had left it, and he made a mental note to thank Lily for whatever cleaning service she had secured. He spent the evening sorting through a large stack of mail, pulling out a few post cards from Serena, and even one from Nate. There was a letter from Vanessa mailed from Spain that he could not bring himself to open. The personal mail, his NYU course catalog, and the last several issues of _New York Magazine _and _The New Yorker_ all went into his messenger bag for the journey to the UES tomorrow.

He called his dad early the next morning, on the way to the subway, to assure him he was en route. Rufus told his caffeine-fiend son that he could stop for coffee, but breakfast would be waiting for him at the apartment. Lily was thrilled to see him, and hustled him to the breakfast table so they could eat together, before Rufus and Eric left for Sarah Lawrence. Dan was surprised at how relaxed Lily was, and soon realized he was enjoying his return more than he expected.

Alone with Lily, he suggested a couple of movies they might watch. Lily graciously declined, explaining that she and Rufus had watched more movies than she cared to admit over the last few months, and that she was glad just to visit with Dan. She caught him up on Serena's latest Hollywood adventures. Despite initial indicators that she would stay in California, Lily seemed hopeful that Serena would be back in the fall to start her sophomore year at Columbia.

Chuck and Nate were still hopscotching their way across the globe. By all accounts, they were having a type of fun that only a select, privileged minority could ever hope to experience. (Dan wondered briefly if he had taken the wrong tact this summer. Is it possible Chuck and Nate were onto something?) But Lily also seemed relieved that for all of their partying, Chuck was still participating in the Bass Industries merger, and was excited about the progress of Charles Place. Dan had forgotten about Chuck's foray into Brooklyn, and was uneasy about its close proximity to the loft.

Lily had seen Eleanor a few times. She seemed grateful that she had not been abandoned by all of her friends. Eleanor had been back in New York for much of July on Waldorf Design business. But she and Cyrus had to be back in Monaco a few days previously for a cruise around the Mediterranean on the Grimaldi private yacht.

Dan remembered hearing about plans for that cruise the last time he was at the apartment, recalled Blair gently chiding his dad about it not being some tacky Carnival Cruise, how beautiful she looked in her red and white dress, the smell of her perfume when they rode up on the elevator...He tried not to react as the memories of their last encounter flooded back. But Lily did sense a change in his demeanor the moment she mentioned Blair and wedding plans. She had some idea from Serena that Dan and Blair had been on friendlier terms prior to Blair's engagement, but it was a topic that Serena was never anxious to discuss. That Serena was so quiet about it had made Lily suspect there was more to it, especially when they had seemed very close at that May brunch, when everyone was last together.

Manners won out over curiosity, so Lily changed the subject, but filed the topic of Blair away to be discussed with Rufus very soon. It had taken Lily all of two hours to figure out what Rufus had been puzzling over for months.

Lily asked him if he had any plans, beyond babysitting her, while he was in the city. He assured her he was there for the pleasure of the visit, and was having a nice time catching up with her. She was charmed as always by his kindness and sincerity, but pressed, finally finding common ground in discussing some of the summer museum exhibitions at The Frick, The Met, and MOMA. After lunch, they poured through his magazines, both catching up on all they had missed in their respective isolations. Lily was very wistful at all that she was missing, in some cases, blocks from the apartment. Dan felt a new sympathy for her. He appreciated the irony of his own, self-imposed exile, while Lily literally was confined to her gilded apartment on the Upper East Side.

They devised a plan for the next day. Dan would join them again for breakfast, and then head over to MOMA for the Talk to Me Exhibition. He would return for lunch, exhibition catalog in hand, and armed with his best writer's observations, and give her his personal account of the show.

Eric and Rufus returned that evening, with Chinese take-out. Eric clearly enjoyed his day at Sarah Lawrence, and shared his experiences with Lily, who was thrilled at her son's enthusiasm. Rufus hugged his son, thankful that Lily had enjoyed her day. He was intrigued with their plans for Tuesday.

It was getting late, so Dan said his goodbyes and headed back to Brooklyn. Lily wanted to order a car service for him, but he insisted on taking the subway. She hugged him at the elevator, thanking him again for their lovely day.

Dan was incredulous that morning, but the day had gone far better than he expected. He was still mulling over what else he might like to do with his week, when he reached the hallway leading to the loft. Without warning, he thought he might be having a stroke because he swore he smelled Blair's perfume near his door. No escape, not even in Brooklyn.

Eric and Rufus returned to Sarah Lawrence for the second and final day of orientation. Eric had called his Fourth of July friend Lukas and got a lunch recommendation for them near campus, and a coffee date with Lukas for Wednesday.

Dan kept his promise and went to MOMA as Lily's proxy. He bought a copy of the exhibition catalog on the way in so that he could take notes throughout. Then he bought Lily her own copy of the catalog so they could review in concert.

He feared he might be having another stroke when he returned to Lily's and thought he smelled pierogies. To his amazement, he was not mistaken. She had ordered in from Veselka for them. Over borscht and pierogies, they spent the afternoon discussing media included in the Talk to Me exhibition.

His obligation was met, but he had had fun and Lily was so grateful, so he volunteered for an encore museum visit. Panic was in town, so Rufus would be in the studio for most of the following day. And Eric had his plans to meet up with Lukas. So the timing seemed right.

Lily's choice caused immediate regret (not that he let on) as it was a Givenchy retrospective at the Cooper Hewitt. She acknowledged this was a little far afield from his usual interests, but the exhibition would be gone at the end of the month, before the conclusion of her house arrest. He was her only chance of "seeing" it.

The next morning, he awoke from a dream. He remembered the hiss of "Givenchy" that escaped from Blair's lips on their shared day at _W_, and tried in vain to turn off the Blair commentary in his head. Anything but this exhibition, he thought. Obligation won out, so he headed into Manhattan for the third consecutive day.

It had been a couple of years since he had last been to the Cooper Hewitt, so it took him a few minutes to orient himself. He picked up the exhibition catalog from the gift shop on the way in, as he had done the previous day, and made his way to the first gallery. He wasn't half way through the introduction when he heard her.

"Humphrey, what the hell are you doing here?" He turned, startled. Her voice sounded wicked, but the broad smile gave her away.

Blair. Or, is it possible to have three strokes in as many days?

He must have looked like a fish, wide-eyed and mouth gaping. "Are you mute now, because I just don't think that is in the realm of possibility?"

After an eternity, he mumbled a sweet hello, and managed a sheepish grin. An awkward hug followed. She grabbed his taut, tan arm (unexpectedly grateful for summer and a short-sleeved Dan Humphrey) and dragged him over to a bench in one of the quiet, side galleries.

"Blair, I'm sorry. I...it is just...wow; it is just good to see you. I just, you know, I just didn't expect to see you. It never occurred to me that you'd be in the city...when did you get back?"

"Sort of an unplanned trip. I flew in day before yesterday. My mother and Cyrus were back in France last week, before leaving for their Mediterranean cruise. You remember about that. Anyway, my mother and I were having some differences of opinion on a few wedding details, so I may have waited for them to set sail so that I could fly over here and make some adjustments. Nothing she needs to know about."

"And you are punishing her insubordination by rejecting her wedding dress designs in favor of something inspired by Givenchy?"

"Listen to you, the fashion expert."

"Well, I did make it partially through the introduction just now AND I did have an illustrious career at _W Magazine_. Maybe you've heard of it?" That earned him a smack to the arm.

"No, my mom has been great. And I love my dress. I may have wanted a more traditional look, a nod towards Audrey, but Kate Middleton and her Grace Kelly knock-off dress has made that impossible. I don't want anyone accusing me of copying her."

Blair would be in no one's shadow, Dan thought. But it seemed to be a fear she demonstrated over and over again.

"But we are clashing about the shoes. And there are some issues with the printer here in the city. And the guest list. Don't worry, you are still invited! And I am still trying to track down a special pink rose, grown here, that must be included in my flowers. But I need to figure out how to get them through customs and into Monaco. And the chef at Butter is refusing to share her recipe for Veal Chop "A la Planche" with the palace chef."

"But what are you doing HERE?"

"Humphrey, it is Givenchy. Audrey Hepburn's designer. The genius behind her look. You cannot be this dense. I won't tolerate it. Her little black dress from "Breakfast at Tiffany's" is here. And her ball gown from "Sabrina." This is my fashion Mecca! The Holy Grail!"

"Blair, can I take you to show and tell?"

"Are you mental? I have no idea what you are talking about."

So Dan explained his Givenchy mission. Her massive to do list immediately tabled, Blair was thrilled at the prospect of having his undivided attention, of lecturing Dan Humphrey on some serious couture. She grabbed his arm (again, and quite possessively, or was he just deluded?), and proceeded to guide him through the entire exhibition. Her enthusiasm was off the charts. He didn't have to read the first placard or open the catalog: she knew EVERYTHING.

Once through, she insisted on going back to look at Holly Golightly's dress again. He was glad to indulge her. She was stunning, guileless, full of girlish wonder and unabashed, giddy delight, and much to his dismay, she caught him staring at her. She swallowed hard at his desirous look, and stammered a weak "What?" in an effort to buy some time and regain her composure.

Alone in the gallery, and emboldened by her visceral reaction, he leaned in close to her, grazing his jaw on her cheek in the process, and whispered in his gravelliest baritone, "Without your one on one docent service, I fear all of my future museum visits will pale in comparison. I will be requiring additional tours in the future."

He thought he might get a raised eyebrow or an indignant comeback. Instead, he saw something quite unexpected, panic. And reality came crashing back down around them both.

She gathered herself up, raised her chin, and said, "Come on Humphrey, we should not keep Lily waiting any longer."

They cabbed over from MOMA, across the park, in silence, sneaking glances at each other, hoping not to be seen by the other. Blair caught the briefest smile on Dan's face, and broke the quiet tension. She lightly touched his arm and asked what he was thinking about.

Dan looked up and regarded her evenly, confidently. "I have been to a dozen museums with you, Blair Waldorf. And I just realized today was the first time we actually bumped into each other."

She smiled at the memory of their field trip procedures and their non-date dates.

Dan didn't say anything when she linked her arm in his and put her head down on his shoulder. He wished for the ability to permanently imprint the smell of her shampoo on his person, a Blair Waldorf scratch-n-sniff sticker for his writing notebook, perhaps. They rode the rest of the way in companionable silence, both wishing for anything that might delay their short cab ride, this last opportunity at anonymity before returning to the real world.

As usual, Blair composed herself instantaneously (how does she do that he wondered for the hundredth time), and waited for him on the curb, while he paid the cab driver. They rode up together in the elevator, Dan, with his eyes closed to better appreciate her Chanel #5.

Dan apologized for the delay, and all was forgiven when Lily realized he brought her a surprise guest. He set an extra place for lunch, listening to them catch up. He caught her furtive glance back at him when Lily inquired about Louis. Dan realized he had never once asked about her fiancé...and Blair had never mentioned him.

Lily teased out important information that Dan had not asked. Blair was staying at the penthouse. Dorota was there during the day, thrilled to have Miss Blair back for a few days. Louis had stayed in Monaco. She would be in town through the weekend, with plans to fly back on Monday.

Somehow Dan ended up seated between them at the table, and felt like he was at a tennis match, watching them volley news and gossip back and forth. When he got up to refill their drinks, Blair could not resist a cater waiter joke at his expense. He favored her with one of his throaty laughs. He nodded at her, towards Lily, as he made his way back to the kitchen. Without interrupting her narrative, Blair got up and switched places with him so that she, rather than Dan, would be next to Lily. He came back in with drinks, and the Givenchy exhibition catalog.

"Lily, Cooper Hewitt should have asked Blair to guest curate the exhibition. Or at least write the exhibition catalog's introduction."

Blair beamed at his compliment. She and Lily opened up the catalog, and Dan realized quickly that he had very much gotten the "boy" version of the tour because Blair and Lily were basically speaking in tongues after about five minutes. He expected them to be overtaken by the haute couture rapture at any moment.

After about an hour, long after lunch had been finished, he made himself useful and returned to the kitchen to make them some coffee. He returned in the middle of Blair's indictment of Edith Head, who, much to Blair's great consternation, had taken all the credit for all of the clothes worn by Audrey Hepburn in_ Sabrina_, including an iconic suit and hat pairing and the black and white gown.

"Humphrey, I was telling Lily about Audrey's suit-"

"The one that she's wearing with the dog when she sees William Holden at the train station?"

"Yes! And that divine black and white ball gown-"

"The one with 'yards and yards of skirt?'" he asked, chuckling in spite of himself.

"Gold star! You were paying attention."

"Blair, we just watched_ Sabrina _last week."

He asked Lily how she takes her coffee and prepared her cup while Blair moved onto costumes from _Charade_. Lily knew Dan drinks his coffee black, so she was curious as he prepared another cup-generous with the milk, which he had heated, and maybe half a teaspoon of sugar. He handed Blair the cup, which she accepted without interrupting her point. When she finally paused long enough to take a sip, she let out an involuntary sigh of delight. From behind his coffee cup, Dan smiled, and nodded once in acknowledgement.

Blair soon realized the late afternoon hour, and made her excuses as she had to race over to Madison to check on her shoe crisis. Lily made her promise to come back for dinner Friday night. Dan walked her out, and waited with her for her cab. As much as he did not want his day with her to end, he was obliged to stay and have dinner with his dad and Lily.

He put her in the cab, and shut the door. Dan started to move away, but turned back suddenly and leaned in through the open window. "Blair...I, um, I just wanted to say thank you for going to Lily's with me...it was a fun day...I've missed you...and our field trips."

His eyes pleaded with her to say something. She was an enigma; he had no idea what she was thinking. She gingerly traced the outline of his Humphrey jaw with her thumb. "I'm glad you shaved," was all she said.

And then, to the driver, "Jimmy Choo's on Madison."

Dan went back up to the apartment, and stayed until Rufus returned from the studio session. Eric had called to say he would not be back for dinner. Coffee with Lukas had turned into an all day outing. Lily, of course, had many questions about Lukas. The Humphrey men tried their best to deflect, out of solidarity with Eric, but Lily was very effective at sussing out the important details.

Dan had hoped to discuss the return trip to the Hamptons house with Eric, but rightly surmised that he would be out the balance of the evening. He stayed for dinner, but left soon after for Brooklyn.

Rufus asked Lily about how Dan had seemed to her. They had talked at dinner about Givenchy and the lunch visit, but Rufus noticed a gloomier change in Dan's mood from the previous day. Rufus was always more than a little nervous whenever Blair was involved, and he wondered if she might have done something. His children, Jenny in particular, had suffered at her hand on multiple occasions. While she had seemed to have matured over the last year and was nothing short of delightful at that brunch in May, he was still wary. Dan's change of demeanor had sent up a red flag and Rufus was not taking any chances.

"Oh, Sweetheart," Lily exclaimed with a mixture sympathy and disbelief. "Don't you see? Daniel has some very strong feelings for Blair. He is trying very hard to work them out."

"Lily, we all have strong feelings about Blair. I know she is devoted to Serena and you have known her since she was a little girl, but she has made life hell at times for my kids."

"Rufus, no. Listen to me. Daniel has feelings FOR Blair. I think he may be in love with her."

"What are you talking about? That can't be. That just can't be."

Lily, already in bed, watched him pace back and forth across the bedroom. "Rufus, it would explain a lot. He hasn't been happy. He said he needed to get away this summer to sort some things out, after she became engaged. It seems like he has been struggling with this for some time."

Rufus, back from a second round of teeth-brushing, lay down beside Lily. She regarded him coolly, trying to decide if she should press the issue. She did not have to; it was Rufus, after all, and he was quiet for all of thirty seconds.

"You haven't said anything to me about this before. How do you know? Did Eric say anything, because he hasn't mentioned anything to me?"

Lily put her book down and took off her reading glasses. "I will tell you what I saw, and what I think it means. You can draw your own conclusions."

Rufus managed a nod.

"Well, first of all, Daniel, of all people, brought her here, and she gladly came with him. When has that ever happened? They ran into each other at the exhibition, which could have just been a random encounter. But once they saw each other, they didn't just exchange hellos and go on their separate ways. He joined her and, from what I gather, she spent the next two hours giving him a personalized tour."

"But Lil, if he told her he was there for you, she might have just wanted to help, and to see you."

"Okay, that might be true. But you didn't see them together. He was so sweet with her. He seems quite charmed by her, actually. She is a tougher read, very guarded, but there was a level of comfort there with him. She seemed relaxed. Normally, she is just so uptight. I don't know, they just seem very familiar with each other. And then there was an inside joke about Daniel being a cater waiter that he found particularly funny. There was something about him laughing at her joke, a look they shared, and that she looked pleased that he laughed."

"Couldn't that familiarity be explained by close proximity? High school and Serena? They have known each other or a long time now."

"I suppose...okay, how about this? When we sat down for lunch, Daniel was seated between us. But I'm afraid Blair and I were a little overly enthusiastic about catching up. Well, he got up, maybe to get some more water, and, okay, you are going to think this is a stretch. On his way to the kitchen, he sort of nodded at her, mind you she is talking at the time. She got up, still talking, swaps his plate, glass, silverware for her own, and relocates to his seat. He came in with the water pitcher and the catalog, which he set in between Blair and me so that we could look at it together while we talked. She knew exactly what he wanted her to do with just a simple nod."

"A nod? My son loves Blair Waldorf because he nodded at her?"

"Rufus, you asked me what I saw, and for my impressions. Please. These aren't just some random observations. Yesterday, he went quiet when I was telling him about seeing Eleanor and talking about plans for Blair's wedding. I wondered if there was something then. Today, let's just say I observed their interactions with that in mind."

"I'm sorry...I'm just trying to sort this out."

"Oh, and then he fixed her coffee."

"He fixed her coffee? I fix you coffee all the time. So?"

"Yes, my Darling, and it is wonderful. But don't you see? You know how I like it. We are an old married couple, after all. Daniel made us coffee after lunch, and brought it into us. He asked me what I like in my coffee, immediately fixed it, and handed it to me. He didn't ask Blair whether she wanted any or how she takes it. Frankly, it was fascinating to watch. Blair was talking about Audrey Hepburn in _Charade_, I think, and Daniel measures out the milk and the minutest amount of sugar, and not artificial sweetener, by the way, and adds the coffee. He stirred the coffee and seemed to study the color of it before he handed it to her. She barely looked up when she took it, but when she finally paused to take a sip, she just drank it...like she knew what to expect. He clearly got it right by her reaction after she had taken the first sip."

"So, we have a nod and the fact that Dan makes good coffee."

"Rufus-"

"But Lily, if you what you say is true, it sounds like it the feelings aren't one-sided. But is that possible? I mean Blair is engaged."

"Honestly, that is what I can't wrap my head around. Blair is very much engaged, was very excited to talk about the wedding plans, and seems destined to be a princess. But she clearly has a deep connection with Daniel. I wonder if she just hasn't come to terms with what that means."

Rufus considered all of Lily's observations. After some time, he realized he held the missing piece of the puzzle. "Lily, you know months ago, Dan asked me to lunch. He wanted some advice, but was more than a little hesitant to actually discuss the problem. He had been sort of seeing someone...hanging out I think is what he said...but not romantically he insisted, and they weren't really comfortable being seen out in public. But it sounded serious, and I asked if maybe they did not realize that they had feelings for each. He said emphatically no, and that they weren't really even friends..."

"Oh, Rufus! That's it. They must have been in denial then. I think it is pretty clear that Daniel has realized his feelings for her. How long ago was that?"

"February. Maybe early March. I'm not sure. Lily, the night you turned yourself in, at Chuck's party, I saw Dan talking to Blair, and teased him that I hoped that Blair, or someone like her, wasn't his secret relationship. No wonder he hasn't wanted to discuss it with me."

"That is a long time. Even before Charlie was here. Well before the prince. Poor Daniel. And Rufus, don't beat yourself up. If he had wanted to talk about it with you, he would have. He knows he can talk to you about anything." Lily sweetly kissed him good night. "Try to get some sleep."

Rufus sighed. "I love you, Lily."

"I love you too, Rufus."

Both lay awake for some time. Rufus was worried about Dan, and was castigating himself for being so insensitive and clueless about the situation, and for so long. The thought that Dan was so unhappy, and had been so for such a long time, was extremely unsettling for him.

Lily was also worried about Dan, but was puzzling over some other troublesome thoughts. Blair, engaged to a Monegasque prince, seemed to be in some kind of denial about the nature of her feelings for Dan. And if she was right, perhaps more worrisome, how would Chuck react if he were to find out. She loved her sons, but they did not share the sentiment with each other.

Well past midnight, Dan Humphrey stared at his bedroom ceiling, also unable to sleep. He had picked up two different books, but found he could not concentrate on either. His phone buzzed with a new text message. "Meet me at 9:00 am sharp in the lobby." He did not respond; he did not have to. She did not expect a response because she knew he would be there.


	3. August, Part 2

Summer Break 

Chapter 3 (August, Part 2)

At 8:55 AM, Dan was in the lobby of Blair's building, two cups of hot coffee and warm croissants in hand, when she emerged from the elevator, like she was stepping out of a fashion magazine, a brunette Aphrodite emerging from the sea foam. Had she ever worn the same outfit twice? He had shaved, but worried briefly about how he was dressed, not knowing what the day's activities would entail. He knew if she hadn't given a critique in the first two minutes he was in the clear.

"Great, you are already here. Mmm, coffee. And croissants. How very Audrey! Thank you. So today. You are my assistant. Since you are the flower market expert-"

"Blair, one trip down there as an accidental drug mule hardly makes me an expert."

"Yes, but you have been down there more than me. And I may need you to carry some things. Work with me here, Humphrey. But first, we have a much more pressing matter to attend. Where do you get your haircut?"

"Wait, what?" he asked, completely taken aback.

"Humphrey, your hair is world's better than that dreadful buzz cut you had in high school. But come on, this," she gestured dramatically, "is out of hand. Who is your barber? That is the right term, isn't it? I know you don't have a stylist."

"Blair, I don't know about this."

"Do you go to the same place? Or do you just let random people cut your hair?"

"Well, actually, the last few times I have had it cut at a place near NYU. Blair, this is a really weird conversation."

"Shut up and quit stalling. The Village? Well, at least we don't have to go all the way to Brooklyn. I was already imagining you inside schmoozing the elder customers with your Brooklyn everyman persona and me outside playing checkers with an old Mafioso."

"I never should have made you watch '_The Godfather _again."

Blair finally coaxed the name of the shop (more of a salon, than a barbershop, thank goodness, she thought) from him, and was completely charmed that he was embarrassed that it was not a no frills barbershop, with an old-timey barber pole, but rather a salon, and that his "barber" was named Jill. From the cab, she had called ahead and convinced Jill that this was, indeed, an emergency.

Jill was waiting for them when they arrived. Blair breezed in, with Dan in tow, and insisted first on what Dan could only describe as an assessment. Mortified, he sat in the barber chair while Blair and Jill got all handsie with his hair. Blair surprised him by complimenting Jill on her previous efforts to try and tame his hair. Did she actually say "it really had never looked better"? Of course, that was followed up with an exasperated, "But now look at it!"

Blair insisted on a shampoo for him first. He was convinced this was all a part of some grand torture scheme, but acquiesced, if nothing else, to expedite the process. Once he was back in the barber chair, Blair more or less let Jill do her thing. Ironically, as badly as she wanted it cut, she was insistent it not be cut too close. There was something about wanting to preserve the integrity of the curl, but not the whole curl. (Upon his skeptical face, she smarted, "Not everyone is blessed with such luxurious, thick, curly hair, Humphrey. No complaints from you!" Jill quickly agreed.)

He mostly tried to keep his head down, wishing for a fast-forward button. Jill kept leveling his head to make sure her cuts were even. Twice he looked up in the mirror to see Blair gazing at him intently from her perch behind him. He smiled sheepishly; she regarded him studiously.

Jill finished, but did not ask him what he thought. Instead, she turned him 180 degrees for final approval, towards his very own personal dictator of taste. "Jill, you are a miracle worker! See, Humphrey. That wasn't so bad, was it? Jill you should send him some sort of reminder so we don't have a repeat of that natural disaster."

Jill turned him again, so that he could face the mirror, and assess for himself. Instead, he found Blair's gaze in the mirror. He smiled, shy and nervous. She held his gaze, strong and steady, and remarked again, quietly, how pleased she was.

Blair stepped out to hail a cab while Dan paid. He started to leave when Jill said, "I hope _you_ like the cut. She really seemed pleased. Your fiancée was a little intense at first, but is sweet. I think she just really likes teasing you. And you are a really good sport."

"Oh, uh, she isn't my, uh, girlfriend. We are just friends."

"I'm sorry. That ring on her finger is hard to miss. I just assumed-"

"No, no, you are right about that. She is engaged. Not to me...we are, uh, just old friends."

"That's too bad. You make a cute couple."

"Thanks for working me in" is all he could muster. He found his way out of the cool salon and was immediately blinded by the bright, mid-day sun. Out of sorts, he heard a horn, and then Blair, "Over here, Humphrey. Chop, chop!"

"What took you so long? Were you flirting with Jill? Don't you dare jeopardize your client/customer relationship. A good stylist (off his look, she modified to "barber") is hard to find. You have finally found someone who knows how to make those curls work for you. I hope you tipped her."

"Of course I tipped her."

"Good. You know, I was worried she took too much off the front. I couldn't see as well up there, as I could see the back." Suddenly, her hands were on his head, in his hair, testing the wavy lengths, examining the haircut closely. She firmly grasped his jaw so she could move his head side to side for closer inspection. Inches away, yet she failed to see his eyes slam shut involuntarily from the pleasure of her touch.

For as long as he could remember, Blair had never hesitated to man-handle him (ironic, considering her petite frame). She was forever maneuvering him in and out of rooms, behind curtains, on and off elevators. She bought him ties and straightened his collars. She snatched staplers and tackled him once in the middle of a party.

He tried to take her hand one time to comfort her, knowing it was a doomed endeavor, but tried anyway, wanting to ease her hurt and pain. The appearance of weakness in front of him was too much for her to bear, and she pulled away. So when he finally determined to kiss her, he still sought her approval first, and then still could not, not without her grabbing him first.

Dan had learned to adapt. He was a keen, stealthy observer; it was easy with his anonymity. Besides, it was usually how nice she smelled that he noticed most, something he could do from a safe distance, and he was very much enjoying that sensation in the confines of the cab. But this was a new experience, and he realized now just how sensitive he was to her touch, even if that meant via the incidental touches of her appraisal of his freshly shorn locks.

She released his jaw, but then her left hand gently swept through the wave of curls across his forehead, and lingered at his temple. Time slowed down. She smiled at him then, her face soft and tender, and said, "But no, I see now that it is perfect." Her eyes narrowed as her thumb traced his sideburn down the side of his face, and back up to his cheekbone, where it lingered languidly. He sat there in stunned silence, unable to breathe.

The cab came to a stop and then, suddenly, take charge, to do list Blair was back. "Oh, we are already here. Come on, Humphrey." She patted him on the knee. What else could he do? He followed her into the flower market.

Blair was on a mission, and true to character, had done her homework. Dan smiled when he realized the "urgency" of Blair's pretty, pink rose. It was named _Audrey_, a domestic variety of rose created in honor of Audrey Hepburn, and it was to be the showcase of her wedding flowers. If she could not wear Givenchy, Audrey would have to be present at the wedding in some other iteration.

Dan watched as Blair negotiated the order. The volume needed concerned the vendor, but Blair convinced him that he would have no other customer for that variety of rose in the month of November as she was prepared to buy every last stem. When he expressed concern about customs and location (this wasn't some wedding on Long Island, it was across a much larger body of water after all), Blair assured the man that shipping, via the royal jet (Monaco customs would NOT be a problem), would not be a concern.

She wandered over to look at some calla lilies. The vendor looked up at Dan from his order book, and asked, "Is she for real?"

Dan regarded him earnestly and said, "You have no idea."

Her phone rang, and she moved a little further into the stall to take the call. She was all smiles at first, but Dan knew something was amiss when the conversation moved from her charming, chipper French to discreet whispers in English.

If anything was the matter, she was determined not to let on. She ordered an enormous bouquet of the calla lilies to be delivered to Lily Friday afternoon, before dinner. She made Dan promise, twice, not to spoil the surprise. He was a little insulted at her mistrust. "Don't be so sensitive," she admonished with an eye roll.

Dan sensed something was bothering her, but knew Blair well enough that if she wanted to talk about it with him, she would, but on her terms. If he raised the question, it would be shut down forever.

Instead, he decided to try another avenue. He led them out of the flower market. "Humphrey, this isn't the way we came in, is it?'

"I know. But I thought you might like some tulips, and a visit to the scene of my almost crime."

She could not help but smile when he bought her pink and purple tulips, and laughed when he tossed the plant food packets in a trashcan on the street. "You can't be too careful," he cautioned.

"Where do you want to have lunch?" she asked, while he hailed them a cab.

"You should pick. You aren't in town much longer."

But she insisted he pick, this was more his end of town than hers, she determined. (Only Blair could cede all of lower Manhattan to him. Very generous.) He always worried when the choice was his. While a good choice was rewarded with her rare praise, the fear of her disappointment made him a nervous wreck. He finally just settled on this little Thai place near NYU, mostly because it was next door to an ice cream parlor with killer gelato that she had enjoyed before.

Blair smiled when they got out of the cab and realized no matter how lunch went, gelato was in her future. She would never admit it, but she reveled in the choices he made for her. Time and again, he always picked places that he thought she would like based on some movie they had seen, some late night craving she might have had the week before that she had long forgotten, or a meal he had enjoyed that he wanted her to try. This was Dan Humphrey after all, so they were not all winners, not even close. She never let him off easy if the place ended up being a disaster; she had to standards to uphold. Besides, it was too much fun teasing him. But somehow she always had a good time, even if the food was horrible.

They went inside the restaurant, which was near empty at the end of the lunch service. A nice table by the picture window was declined by Blair for a more discreet location in the back. "Old habits die hard," thought Dan.

Her phone started ringing soon after the food arrived. "Are you gonna get that?" he asked, mouth full of Pad Thai, after the second call.

"I'm sure it can wait. Can I have a taste?" she asked, already reaching with her chopsticks.

"Only if you share your Chicken Satay."

The check and her third phone call came at the same time. Dan took the check, while Blair took the call.

"Blair, do you want me to..." Dan pointed across the room, offering to move to give her some privacy. She shook her head emphatically no.

"Salut, Louis. We've taken care of the flowers this morning...I promised the vendor we could ship them on the jet, and bypass customs. I hope that is okay…..I spoke with her earlier this afternoon...Oh, I am having a late lunch with Dan. He helped me at the flower market earlier...No, I ran into him at the Givenchy exhibit yesterday. Remember, I told you about the retrospective at the Cooper Hewitt...Still Monday. I have lots left to do..."

Blair was sinking further and further down in her chair, while her voice was trilling higher and higher, like when she is trying to persuade someone she deems important without losing her temper. Dan felt like an intruder, and retreated to the other side of the restaurant. He ordered them coffee, went ahead and paid the bill, and realizing she was going to need some time, asked a small favor of the waitress.

He returned from next door bearing six small cups of gelato. The waitress brought them their coffee.

"I thought you might have left." She was quiet, calm.

"Well, I figured you deserved a little privacy. Besides, when do I ever get to pick the gelato?"

"I let you pick."

"No, you always get what you want, and you 'suggest' to me to get your second choice, and we always end up swapping." His smile was warm and indulgent.

Eyeing the many selections with an arched eyebrow, "So do you think you got enough?"

"I think we'll manage."

She dove into the chocolate first, as he knew she would, and she made a dent in the vanilla hazelnut, which he finished. He tried to get her to try the fig, and she just laughed at him. Neither cared much for the pistachio. He started on the mango, but the raspberry was the star.

"Humphrey, you HAVE to try this."

"I'm happy with mine."

"No really, taste." She offered him her spoon from across the table. He took her hand in his and guided the spoon to his mouth. The taste barely registered under her unflinching gaze. She started to pull the spoon back, but he hesitated, not wanting to relinquish her hand.

Her gaze shifted from the full lips of his mouth to his warm, brown eyes. His cheeks were flushed, and he could no longer mask his desire.

"Dan-" his name a word of caution, hitched in her throat.

"Blair, what are we doing? Do you have any idea what you are doing to me?" His voice was low and ragged.

She struggled to rein in her emotions, as well as control his. She sat up straight, her tone mimicking her posture. "I am going to finish my raspberry gelato. And I suggest you finish yours before I get any more imperialistic ideas. And then we are going to the printer, to straighten out my _wedding_ invitations."

"Blair, please..."

Her stoicism was gone in an instant, replaced with wild-eyed, pleading desperation. "Dan, please, please, please doesn't say anything. Don't ask me anything. Not here. Please let me have this lunch, and this gelato, with you. Okay?"

He nodded, recognizing the cliff's edge upon which they stood. One step too many and they were over. So he would have to wait her out (again). She had a couple more bites of gelato, while he nursed his coffee. Before leaving, she asked him if he wouldn't mind hailing a cab while she waited inside.

With the cab secured, he ducked back in the restaurant to get her. She seemed very much her old self, with a fresh application of lipstick and powder. He opened the cab door for her and slid in beside her.

"I didn't know the address of the printer," he said, motioning towards the cabbie.

"Driver, we need to go to 455 Water Street in Brooklyn. Take the Manhattan Bridge, and circle back down below it."

Dan limited his reaction to the address...his address...to a raised eyebrow.

Quietly, looking out the window, she said to him, "Change of plans. The printer can wait." She sought out his right hand with her left, which he gladly surrendered. He asked her no questions, just made a few comments about the buildings they passed, the passersby he observed, just to fill the silence of the cab. Her quiet made him uneasy, but he found comfort with her hand on his.

He felt her hand tense when they pulled up to his building. Then he noticed her glancing around nervously, when they got out of the cab, and realized she was on alert. Gossip Girl informants maybe? No, this had come on since the calls at lunch. Paparazzi alert probably.

While unlocking the loft door, he laughed and told her about how he thought she had been there Monday night. He held the door open for her to let her pass, and noticed a strange expression on her face as she entered the loft.

"Blair, what did I say? What is wrong?"

"How did you know?" she demanded.

"Wait, what?"

"That I was here."

"You were?" The nose knows, he thought. He could barely meet her eyes. He stammered, eyes down on his feet. "I thought I had smelled your perfume."

The subterfuge was over in that instant, and he knew it, even if she did not yet. She had ignored his reaction after lunch, but this was different. For him to know her like that, to know her by the smell of her perfume, was too intimate. She would have no control over that. She dictated their time together, when they interacted, how they interacted. That fine line she balanced for both of them, their friendship and her engagement, her two worlds, had just been breached. Blair could no longer hide behind the cover of the plausible deniability that what they shared was just a friendship, at least on his end. They had danced around it and always, always ignored their feelings for each other. Their kiss, the only tangible evidence to the contrary, had been tossed aside as a "social experiment gone awry." Now all he could do was wait for the pronouncement.

"Blair, I'm sorry-"

"I need a drink."

He found an old bottle of Rufus's scotch and poured her a glass. Restless and anxious, she slowly made her way through the loft, taking in much of the art for the first time. She found herself in his office, and stopped. Standing amongst his bookcases, she wondered how it was possible for this man of twenty to have so many books. She knew he had read them all, and that pleased her enormously. She ran her fingers along the edges of a few well-worn covers.

"Humphrey, you know you need taller shelves, right? It is crazy the way your have the books stacked horizontally when they should be situated vertically."

"I know. But I am working with what I have."

"Mind if I borrow a couple, or are they like your children, too precious to let out of your sight?"

"What's mine is yours. Please take what you want. What do you have in mind?"

"Something for the flight back. Maybe Jazz Age/Lost Generation? Not Hemingway-one of the Fitzgeralds maybe? She pointed to The Beautiful and Damned and remarked, "This is Serena's favorite book."

"I know," he said neutrally. "She gave that copy to me."

Blair nervously asked, "Have you talked to her much this summer?"

"Hardly at all, actually. Usually just to answer Eric's phone when he has been away. A few postcards from her. It sounds like she is really enjoying herself and her work."

"I miss her terribly."

"I am sure you do; have you thought about going to see her?"

"We've talked about it, but our schedules just haven't meshed. It was hard enough to slip away to get to see...to get to Manhattan...Do you think she will stay in California?"

"She seems much more suited to sunny California, than you and me," he said with a knowing smile. "But I'm not sure. Lily thinks she will be back at Columbia in the fall, for what it is worth. But Blair, what about you? Will you even keep your place in New York if you are splitting your time between France and Monaco? Serena in California or New York. It doesn't matter much, does it, if you are in Europe?"

Blair looked up from Dan's very worn copy of Tender Is the Night she was thumbing through and sighed. "I don't know. That is one of the issues we are trying to sort out. I mean, I doubt that my mother and Cyrus sell the penthouse; they still have too much business in New York. But I don't think Louis wants a place here. I am not even sure what to do about Columbia," her voice trailed off.

"Then let's focus on the task at hand, then, okay? I think you should take this collection of Fitzgerald short stories. Please forgive my notes; I have had this copy awhile. Now you pick something. Maybe Gertrude Stein or Dos Passos if you want something else from that generation? Or maybe go a little further back. I think maybe some Wharton and New York in the Gilded Age-"

"Humphrey!"

"Okay, I sense I am influencing you. I recuse myself and will see you back in living room. Take your time."

Later, reunited in the living room, he pressed a glass of red wine into her hand before she could even protest. "Movie?" he asked, hopefully.

"Of course," she responded, as if there was any doubt.

"I'm sorry I don't have all of your Hepburn movies...Audrey that is. I may have_ Charade_." Or you could check Netflix on my laptop.

"_Charade_ would be great."

Despite the tension, they settled into their normal movie watching routine. Both sat on the sofa, close so they could both see the movie play on Dan's laptop on the coffee table. He forgot that the movie was set mostly in Paris, and worried she might react. But she seemed unfazed. She quickly pointed out one of Hepburn's suits they had just seen the day before, and admired the character's beautiful, albeit empty, Parisian apartment. ("Look at those closets, Humphrey!") Towards the end, during the Palais Royale and Colonnade scenes, she sighed and admitted it really is beautiful there.

The movie ended, but neither really moved to get up. It had gotten dark, and the only light he had left on was in the kitchen.

"Are you hungry?" He doubted it, but wanted to be sure.

"No, but I would have some more wine."

He was up and back in a flash, with her wine and another beer for himself. He started to turn on one of the lamps, but she asked him to leave it off.

"Do you want to watch another movie?"

"No thanks. Can we just sit here for a little while? I think the jetlag may be catching up with me. It is nearly 4:00 in Paris."

"We've had a pretty busy day, too. I'm sorry we didn't get more off your list done, though."

"Don't worry about it. Thank you for coming with me today," she said sincerely.

"Thank you for the haircut."

"Promise me you'll keep it cut?"

"If it means that much to you."

"More than you know." Her voice was low, and her entire demeanor seemed spent.

"Blair, what is going on? It is not just the haircut. I'm sorry, but I need to know what this is, what we are doing. You keep changing the rules. And I am lost."

She was silent for an eternity. She turned to face him, finally, and her answer spilled out in a rush of emotions. "I need to know you are okay, and I know there are some things you don't always think about. I saw a picture of you from the Fourth of July, and you were just a mess. At first, I was irritated that you just didn't seem to care, Humphrey thumbing his nose at high society. But deep down I just sort of knew that you were unhappy, that it wasn't just some act of social protest. It was unsettling. And then I was mad at myself for it bothering me."

Off his look of hurt after her last statement, she said, "Please just hear me out. I tried to ignore it. And I realized that I couldn't. You had looked so nice when I last saw you; we had such a wonderful time that day. I knew I might be able to persuade you to shave from afar, but short of having you kidnapped (and don't think I didn't consider it), I couldn't figure out the haircut. I know it sounds crazy, but I needed to see it done before I could go back because I'm not here to keep an eye on you, and I won't be after the wedding. And I know that appearance isn't something you really worry about, but I do-"

"Blair, I'm sorry. It is okay. I'll be okay."

"Will you? How can you know? I don't. I just miss the city and everyone so much. Serena is in California. And you are here, in Brooklyn...I just can't reconcile it anymore."

"It? Do you mean us?"

"No, well, I don't know what I mean-it is just that Louis thinks we are more than friends. He doesn't really understand our movie-watching. And I know we talk a lot. I'm over there, but my friends are in New York. What does he expect me to do? I almost lost him because of Chuck, and I know that is always in the back of his mind. And now he has this idea about you and me. And I know he is about to make me choose. So now I feel like I am under constant scrutiny. His sister hates me, and his mother probably has someone outside watching the building right now-"

"Blair, are you serious? That is insane!"

"And the constantly having to prove my worth, it is humiliating. And yet, this journey I am on, it wouldn't be what it is if it were easily achieved, right? I keep telling myself that, anyway. It is so close that I can finally see it happening. I know this is what I am supposed to do, destined to do. But...there is this lingering doubt I can't shake. I have given up so much already to be with him. But you are my...friend...and I don't know what else I can sacrifice to marry him, and still be me."

"Blair, I know you think this illusion, this fairytale come to life, is what your future should be. You have had an amazing life, and you are truly the exception, the woman's whose wildest little girl's dreams are about to come true. You have your prince. But are you marrying him because he is the love of your life, or because you think it is your birthright, your destiny?"

"Louis is very kind, sweet, cultured, and urbane. He loves me. This is my life, real life, Dan, not a fairytale."

"Are you sure about that? Blair, I want to do the right thing and not try to influence you. The decision is yours alone. But it is hard for me to remain impartial. I see our window closing, I see now that everything we share is about to be sacrificed-"

"Wait, Dan, that isn't fair. I have done everything in my power to preserve our relationship-"

"That may be, but it is slipping away faster than you can see. Please hear me out. I...care...for you so much. More than I should. I know that. I know that. Please don't pretend you don't. Do you think this has been easy for me? Watching you return to Chuck, knowing what he has done to you, and both of us having to suffer his humiliations. And now Louis. You and I, we said and did hurtful things when we were young and immature and ignorant. We made a lot of assumptions about each other based entirely on where we were from and what we thought that meant about the other. Do you know how much time we wasted doing that? Because when we found each other, and really saw each other for the first time, I mean really connected, it was immediate and life-changing, wasn't it? Or am I just delusional, imagining that? We are worlds away from high school, Blair. I KNOW you now, and I am so grateful for that. And I think I understand you better than most because we are so much alike in so many ways, except for that one way of particular significance for you. And, my God, if my being from Brooklyn is what is keeping us apart...that is just so wrong. There isn't a thing I can do about it, not that I should even have to."

"Dan, please, it is not that simple. Have you ever felt like you were destined for something? Of course you have. You are a writer...it has been your life's dream and it is what you are. Now imagine giving that up. I know it sounds archaic, but this life is what I have wanted more than anything. How do I turn my back on something that is meant to be?"

"Blair, you don't have to be someone's princess to fulfill your dreams. I see the strength and determination and kindness in you to affect worlds of change, but on your own terms. Why if it is meant to be, this path that you see for yourself, do you have to sacrifice everything to do it?"

"If it is something greater than us, isn't it worth the sacrifice?"

"At the cost of your happiness and self? Blair, I think you already answered your question."

She was exhausted, and had no more words, offered up no other argument, and they both sat in silence for some time, inches and miles away from each other, on Dan's blue sofa.

He eventually broke the prolonged quiet. "Blair?"

"Yeah," her voice was a whisper.

"I need you to know that more than anything, I want you to be happy. Please know that. I am sorry I have muddled things for you tonight. Try and forget what I said. I mean, well I know you really can't, but just...Blair, I couldn't live with myself if I wasn't honest with you about how I feel. That kiss, our kiss, meant so much, but you dismissed it without a thought, and in front of me, to Chuck, of all people to Chuck. I have spent this entire summer trying to get over you when there wasn't even a hint of reciprocity from you, beyond our being friends, save a few vague overtones that I was sure I had overinterpreted. But Blair, with these last two days, maybe I wasn't wrong...I think Louis is right. This is so much deeper. And I just couldn't let you leave without telling you how I feel, even if you don't feel the same."

She could not meet his gaze. But finally she said, "You said something similar to me a million years ago in a grungy hallway. Do you remember?"

Dan leaned forward and gently kissed her cheek. "I remember everything about you Blair."

"And Blair, I don't mean for this to be a referendum. Take me out of the equation and consider everything else though, and then ask yourself if the sacrifice is worth the reward."

He got up and started moving through the loft. Blair watched him turn on a couple of lamps, put his laptop away, clear her wine glass and the beer bottles.

"I should go."

"Blair, I know you are tired and it is late. You are welcome to stay." He smiled bashfully. "I can stay out here."

"Thanks, Humphrey. But, no, I should go home. Louis might...it doesn't matter. I have to go. Mind if I freshen up first?"

"Sure."

"I'll just be a minute."

Blair emerged like a phoenix. He wondered what she kept in those giant purses she always carried. He had her books and tulips waiting for her at the end of the kitchen counter.

"I called a car service for you. This late, I thought it might be better than a cab. That okay? Are you okay going by yourself? I can go with you."

"Thanks, Humphrey. I'll be fine. I'll head on down-"

"Wait, no. I gave the driver my cell. He'll call when he is downstairs. Will you...just text me when you are home safe?"

"I will. Are you going to Lily's for dinner tomorrow?"

"I'm not sure, probably."

"Please don't skip on my account."

"Don't forget, here are your books and your tulips. You'll be okay tomorrow without your assistant?" he asked with a rueful smile.

And then suddenly she was crying, messy, weepy crying. She seemed more surprised than him. He took the books and flowers from her, and wrapped her up in a giant hug. He felt her hands holding tight around his back, while she sobbed into his neck. He pressed a long, tender kiss to her temple. They stood that way several minutes until Dan's cell phone ringing cut through the sobs.

With his right arm still around her, he pulled out his cell phone. "Hello. Yes, thank you. She will be down in a minute."

He repocketed the phone. "Blair?" She looked up at him. "You ready?" She nodded at him, wiping away tears.

"Are you sure you want to go?"

"Dan, you know I have to."

"It is going to be alright. Okay?"

She managed to nod again.

They let go, and he handed her back the books and tulips. From the hallway, she asked again, "Will you be at Lily's tomorrow?"

"Yes," he lied.

She walked to the elevator on her own. She heard the beer bottle hit the brick wall of his living room as the elevator doors closed.

Later, before bed, while brushing his teeth, he found her bottle of Chanel #5 on the bathroom vanity where she left it for him.

He was in bed when her text finally hit his phone, "I'm home."

"Goodnight, Blair," he responded.


	4. August, Part 3

Summer Break

Chapter 4 (August, Part 3)

He was determined not to leave the borough of Brooklyn the following day. After cleaning up bottle shards, he continued his book-shelving project that never seemed to end. He had abandoned grouping by subject, and went back to the original plan of simply alphabetizing by author. Very unimaginative, but he did not really care. The objective was to stay busy.

Eric surprised him by showing up at the loft. "I thought you might like to grab some lunch. Hey, you finally got your haircut. It looks good."

They made their way to the diner around the corner. Dan asked about Lukas, and Eric said he was very nice. They had met for coffee, but ended up at a summer play workshop that some of Lukas's friends were doing. For now, they were keeping things casual. Eric seemed just as excited to have been on campus beyond the limitations of orientation. He was really looking forward to the fall.

"So, I couldn't help but notice that you were rearranging books again. Anything you want to talk about?"

"You don't want to go there."

"Are you sure? I know you saw Blair on Wednesday at Cooper Hewitt, and that you had lunch with my mother. Come on, how weird was that?"

"It was actually a nice day. And Lily and Blair had a great time catching up. I think they both miss Serena a lot."

"And?"

"And what?"

"Dan, come on! Rufus and my mom were all over me with questions yesterday about you and Blair. Did you say anything to them? I figured you hadn't, but that my mom had picked up on something. Fortunately for you, I take my promises seriously, and didn't breathe a word to them about anything. But Dan, my mom can wear a person down. She is like a shark underwater. You don't know you are being stalked until you've already been pulled under. I thought you deserved a heads up before dinner tonight."

"Yeah, about dinner...I don't think I'm going to make that..."

"But Blair is coming."

"Right. I know."

"Isn't she going back to Monaco on Monday? According to my mother, you were thick as thieves at lunch. I'm sort of sorry I missed that."

"We sort of left things...in an awkward, ambiguous place last night-"

"Wait, did you see her yesterday? Did you go on a date?"

"No, no, nothing like that. She had this wedding to do list that she needed help with, so I went with her-she asked me. But first we got my haircut. And then went to the flower market. We had a late lunch near NYU. But she kept getting calls all afternoon, presumably from Louis and maybe his mother, I'm not sure. And she got sorta wigged out after the last call, and we ended up at the loft...and watched a movie. That is it. I swear."

"A marathon day in the life of Blair Waldorf. Sounds relaxing. And I'm sorry, but why did you get you haircut in the middle of all that?"

"Well, again, her idea. She seemed pretty intent on that happening before she left. It was actually the first thing we did...it was horrifying."

"I bet. Because I'm sure Blair completely ignored that whole process, and didn't involve herself at all." Eric grinned like the Cheshire Cat.

"She did offer some suggestions."

"Dan, what is going on between you two?"

"Honestly, I don't know...I shouldn't even think about it. She probably senses I have disclosed this information to you and we will both be hunted down in our sleep. Lock your door tonight."

"Clearly, something has happened..."

"This is between you and me. Do you swear?"

"Yes, of course."

"Yesterday was just surreal. I cannot stress to you enough how uncomfortable that haircut experience was...yet I would be flat out lying if I denied that the post-haircut inspection in the cab wasn't...hands on-"

"Dan?"

"Dude, you asked. She's like this close to me, and she's got a hold of my jaw, and is literally moving my head side to side, reviewing the haircut. It was just so...intimate...and she smelled so nice. Then, we pull up at the flower market, and she is all, 'Let's go get my wedding flowers!'"

"Schizophrenic, much?"

"I know, right? We kept having these moments...nothing happened, please don't misunderstand...just these moments of connection. Back in the cab, at lunch, in the cab again. But they were interspersed with calls she kept getting from Louis and maybe his mother. I gave her some privacy for the last call, so I have no idea what was said. But instead of going to the printer, she directed the cab here, well, the loft."

"Well that was unexpected."

"Yeah, then later I made some self-deprecating joke about having thought she had been by Monday night because I thought I had smelled her perfume in the hallway. Well, come to find out she had been by, when I was with you at dinner with my dad and Lily, and I had smelled her perfume. And that is when things really got awkward. We both sort of ignored it. She picked out some books for the flight back, and we watched a movie. And then it was quiet and-"

"You just couldn't quit talking. I have met you."

"I couldn't take it anymore. I spilled my guts to her, and you could tell the whole time she is just wishing that I would shut the hell up. And it turns out that even Louis has picked up on the fact that even with an ocean between us, maybe we seem a little more than friends. And I think he has probably given her some sort of ultimatum."

"What did she say when you told her how you felt?"

"She spoke a lot about that she was on the path of her destiny. That she is meant to be a princess. But she seems so torn. She has given up her life here, her friends. I don't think she will come back to Columbia. I want her to be happy, no matter what. But I swear, Eric, spending the last two days with her, I think she feels something for me. But I also realized that deep down I will always be Humdrum Humphrey of Brooklyn, and that will never, ever be acceptable in the society she craves."

"Dan, are you sure? A year ago you weren't even friends, just the two sides of Serena."

"After that kiss, I naively let myself think it could happen. It was like everything finally came into focus for me. But how did she react? First, she realized she still wanted Chuck. But then, another chance when he couldn't suppress his dickish behavior for five minutes. And then she gets engaged almost immediately, to a prince, no less. No, there will be no committing social suicide with Dan Humphrey, especially not with a prince in play."

"You know, Dan, my mother has been married five times. She made the socially correct, CeCe sanctioned choice with my dad, and got burned. She has been wooed by artists, bankers, international businessmen, titled aristocracy. Serena and I never spent Christmas in the same place. She married three more wealthy, powerful men, trying in each instance to create an ideal family situation, appropriate for the society in which she was raised. And look how that all turned out. So then what did she do? She returned to the one man who she had loved, but had dismissed because it is what society told her to do. Despite her early iconoclasm, my mother cares more about what society thinks than she would ever admit. This is still true, and has painfully become clear with her house arrest. In spite of everything though, she recognized that the love she and Rufus shared was real, and more important than anything else. Despite everything, they are making it work in their own way. I haven't seen my mother happier. Even with the ankle-monitoring bracelet."

"Blair knows how I feel. I cannot, in good conscience, do anything beyond what I have done, which was tell her the truth. No ultimatums. No guilt trips. The decision is hers. It always has been," he said regretfully.

"I'm sorry, Dan. Are you sure you won't come tonight? Just to see her one last time? Say goodbye? Especially if you think she isn't coming back for the fall term."

"I don't think I can. I'll just stick around here. Maybe go see 'Rear Window' at Film Forum. Think you can tell Lily I'm sorry? I'm afraid if I call her this early, she will manage to cajole me into going."

"I will let her know. I'm really sorry about all of this Dan."

"It was doomed from the start. I just need to recommit to getting past it. Couple more weeks at the beach house, I guess."

"About that-"

"You aren't coming back. I sort of figured."

"How did you know?"

"You were having fun in the city, making friends. And you are about to start college. It just makes sense."

"I'm sorry."

"Please don't worry about it. You have been unbelievably supportive all summer. I am grateful. Now it is time for you to have some fun."

They finished lunch and parted ways in front of the loft, with Eric taking a cab back to the city. Dan finished with his latest reshelving efforts, and then tackled his online registration for the fall semester. He only had to make one change, and quickly found himself out of busy work. He checked the Film Forum schedule and realized "Rear Window" was the second of a Jimmy Stewart/Alfred Hitchcock double-header that night. "Rope" started at 7:30, followed by a short intermission and "Rear Window" at 10:00. At least he would be on his appointed end of Manhattan.

The calla lilies arrived at Lily's at precisely 4:30 PM. Eric waited until 5:30 to tell Lily and Rufus that Dan would not be coming. Lily immediately reached for the phone. Eric put his hand on hers and said simply, "Please, don't. He just can't. Okay?"

Lily and Rufus exchanged glances. Lily looked back at Eric and asked, "Is this about Blair?"

"I couldn't say," Eric said non-committally, while nodding almost imperceptibly at his mother, out of Rufus's line of vision.

"Okay, then it will be four of us for dinner. I'll just go see to the change."

"Eric, did he say something to you about Blair?" Rufus asked. The way he said "Blair" made Eric realize his mom knew for sure, but Rufus was still uncertain.

He figured his quiet acknowledgment to his mom saved Dan from having to either tell her no, or be guilted into dinner. Eric had more resolve with Rufus. "We talked about many things today. I think he is headed back to the Hamptons house Sunday or Monday. Maybe you could go see him before then?"

"I should. We haven't had much one on one time in a long time."

Blair arrived at 7:00 PM sharp for drinks. She was her normal self, gushing about life in Paris and Monte Carlo. Lily just went with it, employing that UES non-speak she had perfected long ago, while Rufus and Eric had a much harder time ignoring the elephant not in the room. Dan seemed to be the furthest thing from her mind, that is, until they started to move from the living room into the dining room for dinner. She cornered Eric in the kitchen. "Where the hell is Humphrey? He told me he would be here."

For as much mental preparation he had made to deal with his parents' questions about Dan, he realized how shortsighted he had been not to anticipate Blair and her own barrage of questions. He scrambled, took a risk, and decided to fight fire with fire. "Oh, have you spoken to Dan?"

"Eric, you know I had lunch here with Lily and Dan on Wednesday."

"Oh, that's right. I guess I thought you might have spoken to him yesterday."

"Well, if you must know, he helped me with some wedding errands yesterday. And when I left the loft last night, he said he would be here."

"Had some wedding errands in Brooklyn? Last night?"

"Eric," her eyes narrowing, "what are you doing?"

"I don't know what you mean. His hair looks great, by the way."

Rendered speechless for the first time Eric had seen, Blair struggled for a retort while inadvertently letting him escape the kitchen.

Blair followed him to the dining room, and "accidentally" stepped on his foot when his good manners let her pass before him into the room.

Eric went for broke at dinner, asking Rufus about Lincoln Hawk's tour of Europe, and the month that he and Lily, the unlikely pair, spent in Paris in their younger days. Blair handled it expertly. She had been to some of the clubs he had played. And of course she and Lily talked couture and runway shows. By the end of the evening, she had Rufus completely charmed and had mapped out a post-house arrest Paris vacation for Lily around the fall fashions shows.

They walked her to the elevator at the end of the evening. Just as the doors were going to shut, she grabbed Eric and pulled him into the elevator with her. "Wait with me for my car?" she asked sweetly, with Rufus and Lily standing there. As soon as the doors were shut, she had him cornered again. "I don't know what you think you are doing, Eric."

"I thought we had a nice dinner."

"What has Humphrey told you?"

"What is there to tell, Blair? You are friends, at least as long as that is permitted, right? You are engaged and about to return to Paris and Monte Carlo. That is the start and finish of it. Isn't it, Blair?"

"Of course it is. I just thought he would be here tonight. I only wanted to tell him that I resolved the printer issue myself and paid off the sous chef at Butter for that recipe I wanted. That's all."

"Right. I'm sure that was all. Maybe you could tell him tomorrow at lunch?"

Blair's face fell. "No, that won't work. My plans have been changed. I'm flying back tomorrow morning at 10:00. Louis has sent the jet for me."

"But you were supposed to be here until Monday."

"I know." There was a resentful tone there that made Eric think the early return was not Blair's idea.

"Blair, maybe you should go to see a movie tonight."

"Eric, I don't want to spend my last night in the city alone at a movie."

"But I think you would really enjoy the movie. Did I not tell you what's playing? _Rear Window_. I have it on good authority from a friend that it is terrific. Film Forum, 10:00 PM." Glancing at his watch, "It looks like you could just make it. Blair, I really think you should check it out."

They were out of the elevator and in the lobby by now. Eric was used to strong, confident, take no prisoners Blair, but this incarnation looked stricken, uncertain, and conflicted. He realized why Dan had been so confused about Blair's feelings, because for all the certainty that he had that Blair desperately wanted to see Dan, Eric was not sure that she would actually seek him out.

Dan bought tickets for both shows. He returned to the lobby after _Rope_ for popcorn and soda. He got back to his seat quickly because he knew more people would be in for _Rear Window_. He was a film nerd, he knew it, so sitting two thirds of the way back, in the center of the middle aisle was always crucial to his movie-going experience. Blair gave him a hard time about a lot of quirks, but this was one she seemed to get.

The lights finally dimmed and the movie started. Everyone seemed to know to be in their seats at 10:00 sharp as there would be no trailers, that is everyone except one random woman who was lingering in the aisle, off to his left. The petite frame excused herself past the four people seated off the aisle, down from him, and dropped into the seat immediately to his left.

"Humphrey, I know how possessive you are about your popcorn, but I didn't have time to buy any. I was at dinner with someone's parents." An elbow jab to his ribs punctuated her remarks. He silently passed the popcorn to her. "And just keep your drink in between us, please. Don't suppose you bought a diet soda?" A quick sip from his straw confirmed her suspicion.

"Blair, what are you doing here?" he whispered, struggling to maintain his composure.

"I can't believe you didn't tell me that _Rear Window_ was playing."

His resolve was gone the minute she sat down. It had taken every ounce of willpower to skip dinner at Lily's and not see her again for the foreseeable future. He was reduced to a lovesick puppy. Again.

She quickly settled in, and was immediately captivated by the movie. Dan, not so much, considering the encroaching seatmate on his left. Blair was freezing in the Artic chill of air conditioning and she moved closer and closer, until finally her right arm was between his left arm and chest, and her leg sought the warmth of his jeans-clad leg. Her head eventually found its way to his shoulder. She clearly had a back-up bottle of Chanel #5 at home.

"I love this scene," Blair whispered. Grace Kelly's fashion model character has plans to spend the night with Jimmy Stewart, and has packed the most spectacular and efficient overnight case: tulle nightgown, satin robe, and slippers. All a girl needs. Even Jimmy Stewart is impressed.

While Grace and Jimmy talk to his police detective friend that stopped by (and most definitely noticed the overnight bag), Blair disentangled herself from his person, to Dan's immediate regret. She took the popcorn from him and set the bucket and soda on the floor. In the swiftest of motions, she moved his left arm to the back of her chair, raised the armrest between them, closed the gap between them, and somehow got her right arm around him, between his back and the chair. She whispered, sheepishly, "flirting with hypothermia...," before snuggling back up against his shoulder.

"Should I?" he asked, as he started to ease his left arm down around her, but stopped to wait for permission.

"Yes, please."

It was like a circuit closed. Two became one. In that moment, huddled together at a Hitchcock movie, arms tangled around each other, he knew perfection, joy, and contentment, and he let himself imagine more than ever before that this was what life could be like with her.

The movie rapidly drew to a close and she seemed very content. Jimmy Stewart's dramatic encounter with Raymond Burr did not inspire her to move an inch. But moments later, they both reacted to the closing scene. The hero, both legs encased in casts, is blissfully sleeping in his chair, while his beautiful, glamorous girlfriend lounges nearby in rolled-up jeans and cotton shirt, reading a book. Once she realizes he's asleep, she surreptitiously pulls out her copy of _Vogue_ and starts to flip through it.

Dan saw a compromise made, common ground found, and a happy ending for Grace and Jimmy and their two disparate worlds on the screen. He looked down at her and said "Blair" with hope and love and a new found optimism.

She turned and looked up at him, stricken, with tears in her eyes. He was dumbfounded. "Blair, I don't understand."

"I'm so sorry. This was a mistake. I wanted to see you again before I went back, talk to you and tell you goodbye. I owed you that. But I should have anticipated how you would see the end."

Her whispers had gotten louder and a couple of people turned back to the commotion.

He straightened up in his seat, eyes forward on the screen, reading the credits, trying not to react to this latest rejection.

"Dan, look at me, please." Desperate, she grasped his face in both of her hands. Louis has sent the jet for me and I am supposed to fly back tomorrow."

He could not speak, but the disappointment clearly shown on his face.

She leaned in and whispered in his ear, "I will call soon. I promise." And then she kissed him, softly, just a flutter of Blair Waldorf on his lips. So briefly that he had no time to reciprocate. And then she was gone, before the credits were finished rolling.

"That's what goodbye feels like," he thought. He was slow to leave the theater. Wanting to be alone and have some time to think, he splurged for a cab. He realized his mistake almost immediately, her absence a major void inside, but was resigned to his fate. His cell phone remained off in his pocket, not that he really expected to hear from her.

Rufus showed up at the loft the next morning, bearing coffee and bagels. His son looked like he had not slept, with troubling dark circles under tired eyes.

"I tried calling your cell on my way over."

"Sorry, I must have shut my phone off last night."

Rufus had spotted a duffel bag near the door. "Are you headed back to the Hamptons house today?"

"Yeah, I figured I'd head back this morning, but I didn't think about reserving a seat until a little while ago. Of course everything is booked on a Saturday morning, so I will have to wait until the afternoon Jitney."

"Do you want me to order a car for you?"

Dan started to laugh. "Listen to us. Hiring cars and arranging transportation to the Hamptons."

Rufus smiled at the irony. "It takes some adjusting to, straddling both the norm of Brooklyn and the privilege of the Upper East Side. There is a balance, Dan, one that I think you have handled quite well. Don't feel guilty about the occasional splurge."

"Do you miss being out here?"

"Sure, sometimes, but I love Lily more. And I accepted a long time ago that to make our marriage work, we would each have to make certain concessions. Lily wasn't going to move here, I knew that from the beginning, nor did I expect her to."

Dan just stared into his coffee cup.

"What's going on, Dan?"

He finally looked up, and met his dad's concerned gaze. "I have never felt so lost in my life, so out of control. I thought I could remove myself from the...problem...this summer. Coming back here this past week has only made it worse. Not worse. Made me realize it isn't going away, whether I'm out there or baking in Brooklyn."

"Then why not just stay here?"

"At this point, I just want to be by myself for a few days. Pack up the rest of my stuff. Just tie up the loose end that is the waste of my summer. You know?"

"Why don't you take my car? That way you can leave when you want and move your stuff back when you are ready."

"Thanks. Actually, that would be convenient."

They finished up breakfast in silence. Dan collected their plates. He heard his dad clear his throat and braced for the inevitable.

"Dan, is there anything else you want to talk about? Anyone, that is?" After a prolonged lack of response from Dan, he asked, "It is Blair, isn't it? Back in February, and still, now?"

Dan washed the dishes without looking up.

"Dan? I may have said something to you awhile back...about Blair...without knowing...your situation. Please don't let my flip remarks stop you from talking about this with me."

"Did Eric say something to you?"

"Eric? No, actually Lily put it together after lunch the other day. Dan, I am so sorry about what I said. It's just that you haven't said anything, and it never occurred to me that you would have...feelings...for Blair."

"You know what. It doesn't matter. We are just friends. She is engaged and I am from Brooklyn, and that is the end of the story. Full stop."

"It doesn't appear to be that simple, Dan. At minimum, you care for her. And it seems that there are some shared feelings from her."

"Yeah, I think there are. But not enough to tip the scale in favor of Team Brooklyn. Blair has her fairytale ending. And you know what is pathetic? It doesn't change how I feel about her one bit. She has been clear from the start that she wants the fairytale. Well, first it was Chuck. But now it is the fairytale."

"Dan, we can't always help who we love. Unfortunately, just because you love someone doesn't mean that you are meant to be together."

"Doesn't really help to get past it though."

"Are you going to be okay? Why don't you come back to the apartment? Lily can spoil you for a few days."

"No, I think I'm going to stick with my plan. Get everything moved back from the beach and close the door to this summer once and for all."

The Humphrey men shared a warm father/son hug, and Rufus made his way back across to Manhattan via the subway in solidarity with his son.

Dan drove back to the summer house that evening, his phone still off in his pocket.


	5. Southampton, August, Day 1

Summer Break

Chapter 5 (August, Southampton, Day 1)

He slept in the next morning, in no hurry to face the inevitable, not sure even what to do with his day. Coffee in hand, he made his way out to the beach for some quiet contemplation. It was a clear day, with a light, breeze from the east. He watched a pair of boats sail in concert across the horizon. The three tow-headed, Ralph Lauren-clad children and nanny from the next estate over made their way up the beach, filling their beach pails with seashells brought up in the morning tide.

The coffee long gone and the shell-collectors well past, he abandoned his coffee cup and pulled his t-shirt off. He had not planned on swimming, but the surf seemed inviting. In fact, other than a few dips in the pool, he could not remember having set foot in the water the entire summer.

He swam as far out as he could, and returned back towards the shore. The physical exertion felt good, so he dove back into the incoming waves. The ever-present inner dialogue faded as he lost track of his repetitions. He swam until he thought his arms might fall off, and finally made his way back onto the beach. He collapsed on the hot sand, exhausted, but head clear for the first time in months. The sky above was an amazing pale blue, cloudless, and never-ending. For the first time in months, he felt an urge to write...to describe...for the simple joy of capturing a moment and committing his thoughts to paper.

After a quick shower, he grabbed a new notebook and a pen and headed out to the nearest coffee shop. He spent the entire afternoon writing, fueled by a constant supply of black coffee, describing what he had observed that morning: the expanse of sky, the white foam on the waves, the feel of the salt water. It felt like a writing exercise at first, but soon he found his voice and was grateful that it was still there, just a little atrophied.

Dan kept the same schedule for the next several days: coffee and light breakfast, marathon swim, shower, lunch and coffee in town with his notebook. By Wednesday, he was flirting back with the barista. It felt good to write for the sheer joy of it, not to try and finish a school assignment or meet a deadline.

He continued his habit of movie-watching at night. It was odd not taking notes to prepare for discussions with Blair. Her absence from this activity was profound, but he was determined to accept this new norm, to prepare for the inevitable. Of course it helped that he was avoiding his e-mail and still had not turned his cell phone on since that Friday night. Better to pretend to ignore her calls than be faced with the reality that she returned to Monaco and never looked back.

Saturday morning he started earlier than usual as the weekend crowds had started growing the day before. There was something about the solitude on the beach that resonated with him. He regretted not appreciating it before, and he felt guilty for being so selfish, but he simply did not want to share the beauty and quiet with the masses. The week of swimming had done wonders for his stamina, and he was proud that his endurance had improved so markedly over the short duration.

After his swim, before he dropped to his towel on the beach, he thought he finally caught sight of one of the staff back up at the house. He chuckled, and thought of Big Foot sightings. The morning sun felt good, his body relaxed, and he started to doze. He had some sense that a cloud had passed overhead because he felt a shadow cross he face. In rapid succession, something small hit him square in the chest and he awoke with a start to find a very cross Blair Waldorf looming over him.

"Oh good, your not dead," she noted caustically. "Turn on your damn cell phone. And lock the door, you naive idiot." And with that she turned and marched back towards the house. It took a second to process, but Dan realized she had actually thrown his cell phone at him.

He called after her, but she continued her forward march with a quickened pace. He grabbed the cell and his towel, and sprinted up the footpath. He caught up to her, snagging her arm and spinning her around. "What's going on, Blair? What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be in Monaco?"

She seemed so small. Dan realized she had abandoned her high heels for the beach trek, so she stood before him, barefooted in the sand. He could not help but smile.

"And what is so funny?" she demanded.

"No offense, but you seem much less formidable at this height," he replied, then gestured towards the shoes in her hand.

"Shut up, Humphrey. And let me go before you get any more sand all over me."

He released her arm, but neither made any effort to move away. He studied her face, trying to read any hint of what she was thinking, for any clue as to what she was doing there. She got caught giving him the once over and flushed when her gaze finally met his. Her reaction was not lost on him. He liked how she responded to him, his body still damp from the morning swim, barefooted, and dressed only in his swim trunks. Ages ago, she reacted in horror to him similarly unclothed in her dorm room at NYU. But this was a different time, and certainly a far different reaction. He held her gaze, long enough for her to know that he recognized the affect he was having on her, but then he let her off easy, simply gifted her with one of his grins, without commenting.

Blair cleared her throat nervously, then asked haughtily, "God, Humphrey, what do I have to do to get some breakfast around here?"

"Monaco doesn't serve bacon and eggs? That's a long trip for breakfast, Blair. Guess we better go inside and see what I can manage for you."

She followed him back up the path to the house, enjoying the contours of his back and shoulders. Swimming and the August sun made for a glorious combination on Dan Humphrey, and she appreciated the unobstructed view.

Back in the house, he said "Give me fifteen minutes to jump in the shower and I'll be right back down."

"You have ten," she responded curtly.

She heard him return before she saw him. "Have you thought about what you want for breakfast? Sorry, it is later than I thought. It is more like lunch. Or brunch, I guess. Whatever you want. Except waffles. This house seems to have everything except a waffle maker."

"I thought you Humphreys always travelled with your waffle makers?"

"There is far more to my cooking repertoire than just waffles, thank you very much. I live alone and manage to feed myself without having Dorota cook for me everyday."

She conceded with a nod, but thought he looked a lot thinner, in spite of the muscle tone and nutty color.

He was dressed simply in a navy t-shirt, khaki cut-offs rolled up above his knees, and shoeless. His hair was still wet and finger-combed back. Four years ago, she would have said he looked homeless; two years ago a townie fashion victim. Clearly she was jetlagged because this morning he was simply perfection, casual and confident, completely at ease in the gourmet kitchen of this Hamptons estate that had been in the Rhodes family since the Jazz Age. It had taken her 20 minutes just to pick out shoes and earrings that morning. Of course it helped that he was sun-kissed, smelled like fresh soap, had a head of hair that just would not end, and the t-shirt he hastily put on still a little damp from his shower clung in just the right places...

Dan interrupted her train of thought. "So, brunch? Pancakes, French toast? How do you want your eggs?"

"Humphrey, you don't have to do this."

"Blair, you wanted breakfast. You travelled this far, so you must be hungry. So unless you want me to make everything, spill. What do you want?"

"Pancakes and sausage. No thanks to the eggs. Is there any fruit?"

"Only apples, bananas, blueberries, and strawberries."

"Geez. How often are you at the store, Humphrey?"

"I haven't bought the first grocery item, save for my coffee. Lily and CeCe have magically restocking pantries and refrigerator. Sometimes the dishes even wash themselves if I leave them overnight. But the food does not prepare itself."

Blair watched with keen interest from one of the counter stools as Dan made his way around the kitchen. This was more a surgical strike than the last time she was with him in a kitchen. That occasion was something she was loathe admitting to anyone that she had thoroughly enjoyed, despite her protests to the contrary. She and Dan had planned and prepared that special holiday meal together, with little help from Serena and Nate. On the surface, a casual observer would have seen bickering and discord. But she knew how much fun she had, and ultimately, she knew he felt the same way. Neither would have stayed behind to clean-up, not with Chuck's staff a phone call away, if either had not intended to continue enjoying the experience.

She continued her observation of brunch preparations. He mixed the pancake batter from scratch and without a recipe, had decent knife skills, a terrific flipping technique, and did not make too big of a mess. And he gave a running commentary of what he was doing in that sputtering, nervous Humphrey speak.

Dan spoke of his mom, a rare insight of the little known Allison Humphrey. It was his mom, not Rufus, that taught him how to turn pancakes, and how Sunday morning breakfasts had been a tradition for as long as he could remember.

"Do you miss your mother?" Blair asked.

"I get up to Hudson to see them when I can. It was hard, at first. Sophomore year. New school. But much harder for Jenny than me. Yet it was definitely the right thing, for both of them. My parents are so much happier now. How about your dad? Have you enjoyed getting to see him more this summer?"

"I love visiting with him and Roman. I never thought I would, but it was meant to be, I think. And the chateau is more beautiful than anything you have ever seen. I adore being there with them because it is so unbelievably perfect. Which is why you sort of can't stay too long, you know?"

"I get it. Before it becomes ordinary. Routine."

"And Daddy and Roman are both excellent cooks. They do spoil me when I am there."

Dan made a face. "Now you have made me doubt my culinary skills and nervous about the quality of these pancakes. Tell me. Would they ask you to get the juice and butter out of the refrigerator, or would that be rude and inhospitable?"

"Well, there are two of them, and just one of you, so I suppose I could lend a hand and help. But we'll keep this to ourselves."

"And the syrup from the pantry?"

"I'm going to get a blister, Humphrey."

"I think you'll survive. Do you want to eat out by the pool? There is a shady spot that doesn't get too hot before noon."

"That sounds nice."

Dan carried their plates, silverware, butter, and syrup, with Blair trailing behind with juice glasses. He dashed back in to grab the bowl of fruit he assembled while the sausage had finished cooking, hollering over his shoulder for her to start before the food got cold. But Blair was waiting for him, napkin and hands in her lap, when he got back.

"If your pancakes are cold because you waited, don't blame me."

"Manners always prevail, Humphrey. It would have been rude not to wait."

They ate in silence for a few minutes. Dan was starving after the morning swim. Blair seemed to enjoy everything, but seemed anxious. He broke the silence. "Blair, can I get you anything else? Would you like some of my eggs? More juice? Coffee?"

"No, this is plenty. Well, maybe a bite of your eggs. They do look good. Thank you. I appreciate the impromptu repast, Humphrey, but it was the least you could do for dragging me out here."

"How did I drag you out here? You left me at Film Forum last Friday night, with plans to fly back the next morning. Which, I should point out, was two days earlier than you initially said. When did you even get back? And I ask again, why are you here?"

"I told you, I had tried calling. Several times. And texting. Forgive my concern. You know what? This was a mistake. Clearly you have been avoiding my calls and have no interest in being my friend. I should go. Thanks for the pancakes."

"Blair." He was stern with her for once, and pressed his hand on top of hers before she had finished standing. "Sit down."

She started to say something, but changed her mind and found herself back in the chair. "Well?"

He took a moment, and tempered his response. "First of all, if you think I would make brunch for any random person who just wandered over, let's set the record straight. Brunch is a friends and family occasion. Do you think I would share my pancakes with just anyone?"

"I don't know what kind of girls you have picked up this summer."

"Only those with royal aspirations. Not many of them around, just the one, I'm afraid."

"Humphrey-"

"And you have got to quit dismissing our friendship at the drop of a hat. You are seriously going to give me a complex. Now please, Blair, tell me what are you doing here."

"You were either ignoring my calls or something had happened to you. Either situation had consequences. And since your dad seemed unconcerned-"

"Wait, you called my dad?"

"Yes, and thank you for that awkward conversation. Your dad now thinks I am a complete nut job."

"I'm sure he doesn't..."

"No, of course not, because the bitch who banished his daughter from the island of Manhattan and is hysterically demanding to know the whereabouts of his son at 2:00 in the morning, surely she is to be trusted."

"2:00 AM? Well, maybe you gave him some pause, at that hour. But Blair, did he tell you where I was?"

"Yes. Ultimately. But not directly. By process of elimination."

"If he thought you were a lunatic, I hardly think he would have told you I was up here. I don't care how sleepy he was. And he probably would have called the house phone to warn me."

"You Humphreys are way too trusting. I confirmed that you were not at the loft and not at the apartment with them. I wouldn't say he confirmed you were here, but he didn't deny it either."

"We just have good instincts about who is a maniac...and who is just good-intentioned. Blair, before you threw it at me, did you happen to turn my cell phone on?"

"No. After I let myself in because the door was UNLOCKED, I found it on the kitchen counter, by all of your keys, you putz! You are just asking to be robbed. Not that anyone would take that tin can of a car."

Dan pulled his cell phone out, turned it on, and set it in front of her. Once it had powered up, it beeped for a solid minute while all of the missed calls, missed texts, and voice mail messages registered. "I wasn't lying, Blair. I turned my cell off Friday night. Eight days ago." He let the significance of the time register with her. "I needed some time to myself. I'm truly sorry if I worried you."

"I promised you I would call," she said more quietly. She seemed genuinely hurt.

"I'm sorry. You did. But Blair, I guess part of me was worried you wouldn't. You left me a bit of a mess. So it just became easier to leave the phone off. I couldn't face the reality if you hadn't called." He smiled self-consciously. "So, are you going to make me wade through all of these messages, which probably contain at least one or two death threats, or can you forgive my week-long cell phone abstention and clue me in on what is so urgent?"

She studied him for a minute. "I think I'll let you live. You can ignore those messages. Even though you aren't dead and certain threats were made if I did happen to find you still alive and breathing."

"Thanks."

"I have news, lots of news, actually. That's why I came back yesterday. I wanted to share it with you for some reason."

"If I say I'm sorry infinity, will that finally be enough?"

"Maybe. Let's see how the day goes first. So I did fly back to Monaco on Saturday. With the time difference, I didn't actually get in until that night, so I didn't see Louis until Sunday. Over the next few days, we had several talks about the coming months, the wedding, and how I felt like I was starting to lose myself over there. It took some major lobbying and negotiations, but we have made a few changes. One is that we will split the wedding ceremony between New York and Monaco. The church service will be in New York, while the civil ceremony...you know they do both in over there?"

"Yes."

"Well, we will still do the civil ceremony in Monaco. His mother is livid. I am afraid I lost all of the ground and goodwill I had developed with her. And his sister won't even be in the same room with me, which really isn't much of a loss, now that I think about it. He was taken aback, and I think a little hurt, but I held firm."

Dan smiled to himself, but did not interrupt.

"And I told him I wanted to finish at Columbia."

"Blair, I think that is fantastic."

"It is going to be tricky, because I could not put him on hold for two years. So I'll have to double up on classes and finish in two semesters."

"Blair, is that possible? Can you feasibly do that?"

"Well, Humphrey, when I called you on Wednesday to confer about that very issue and you didn't answer for the twentieth time, I had to do the best I could."

"I will never turn my cell phone off again, if I'm in class or even if it imperils people on the cardiac care floor at Beth Israel."

"That is a start. But you will make it up to me in the next few weeks."

"More pancakes?"

"Probably. But I have an entirely new set of tasks to accomplish here with the wedding changes. And I know with my added hours at school this fall, you will certainly want to help me get as much done before the start of the semester, so that I can keep up at Columbia."

"Will you be back in town indefinitely then?" he asked, sounding more hopeful than he hoped.

"I have to make it back over there for a couple of palace events, but for the most part I will be back here. Another sticking point. But I persevered."

"And the wedding is still in November?"

"Yes."

"Are you going to stay in the penthouse, or are you purchasing a place?"

"That is still up in the air...he hasn't quite come around to a permanent residence, unless you count the consulate, which I don't. Can you imagine having any number of the royal family and their advisors, plus the diplomatic staff, wandering through at all hours! So for now, at least, I am staying in the penthouse."

"Well, if you help me with the dishes, I think we can get started planning this afternoon. Columbia first?" With that, he was up and started to clear the table.

Blair remained seated. "Dan? Are you sure you don't mind helping me? It won't be too awkward?"

"We are friends, Blair, in spite of everything else. It is what we do. Besides, I think I am pretty much passed saying no to you."

She regarded him tenderly, held his gaze, wanting him to see she understood. "I...I get to stay in the city another year...well, almost...ten months, while I'm at Columbia. It was the first priority...that just happened to come with other side benefits. I mean, Columbia is for me. But he can't know about any other reasons. No one can. They wouldn't understand."

He knew immediately what she was saying, but he wondered if she truly recognized all of the ramifications. He refused to be hopeful; he had known that bitter disappointment over and again, with week-old wounds still healing. So he decided in that instant to live in the moment, to hell with the future. It seemed they were on borrowed time anyway. And like a drug, he would take what he could get. Now. It was clearly shortsighted, ill-advised, and selfish, and had disaster and heartbreak written all over it.

"Columbia needs to remain the goal," he responded earnestly. "That said, I _know_ what you did. Thank you, Blair." He leaned over and lingered a kiss on her cheek.

A silent agreement had been exchanged. And Dan watched as she transformed into Back to Business Blair.

"You couldn't have shaved? Didn't we already cover this? And what are you wearing? Did you not bring shoes with you from Brooklyn?"

"You only gave me ten minutes. It was either sand-removal or shaving. I figured you would prefer your pancakes grit-free. No more stalling; grab the rest of those dishes."

They spent the afternoon on the beach, on a couple of blankets under a shade umbrella Dan hauled down from the cabana, at Blair's insistence, reviewing her transcripts and the Columbia Course Catalog online from his laptop. Blair's manic spring semester schedule meant she was not quite as far behind as she initially thought. But it would require at least six classes in the fall and seven in the spring, depending upon whether or not she could wrangle at least six or nine hours of independent study credit the following summer in Paris or Monaco.

They managed to get her in five of the six fall classes she needed. Dan tried to convince her that they could continue to work on it on Monday, when someone at Columbia might actually be at work. But Blair was determined. She decided she needed to send out a volley of e-mails regarding the one full class-to the professor, the department chair, the Dean of Students-in an effort to gain entry.

"Humphrey, sometimes you are just too nice. Trust me on this; I know how to work the system. Besides, it is not like I have resorted to blackmail...yet..."

"Blair!"

"Relax. I'm kidding. At least for now," the latter said in her quiet, conspiratorial voice. "Why don't you go for a swim?"

"I was trying to help."

"We've been at this for hours. And you have been an enormous help, truly. This semester is all but set, except for the one class. I can't just let it go. And I don't need you staring at me while I send these last couple of e-mails. Go. Swim. NOW!"

"Do you want me to read the e-mails before you send them?"

"Humphrey!"

"Okay, okay." He was up in an instant, and had pulled his shirt off and dropped it next to her in the next. "Get a good look while you can, Blair," he boldly teased.

Blair, head down in the laptop, started to say, "You wish, Humphrey," but lost the words in her throat when she looked up to see his fine form already making his way down to the sparkling water. "Please don't look back, please don't look back," she chanted silently as she watched those last few paces before his back arched beautifully and he dove into the surf.

The gracefulness of his movements took her by surprise as she watched him thread his way through the water with an efficient free style stroke. He was always such a nervous talker, so the natural ease of his agility caught her off guard. She vaguely remembered he had played soccer with Nate for St. Jude, and deeply regretted not wanting to know this kind, thoughtful, handsome boy then. While her ego and snobbery doomed that initially, somehow she knew that putting him in Serena's column of possessions had sealed the deal more than anything. Thoughts of Serena's staking claim on all things Dan Humphrey and the stand Blair took at the Pink Party in defense of their friendship supplanted the task at hand until she caught sight of her engagement ring and remembered what she was trying to do.

"What is wrong with me?" she groaned to herself. She closed her eyes and counted to ten, opened her eyes and concentrated her focus back to the e -mail on the screen. With renewed determination, she set to work, with just an occasional peak around the laptop screen to check on Dan's aquatic activity.

At least thirty minutes had passed when he finally made his way out of the water and started towards her. She spotted a slim, blonde figure making her way towards Dan before he did because his faithful eyes were focused on her. She could only observe the exchange, out of earshot.

He did not seem to recognize her, at least at first. She watched as the girl introduced herself and Dan shook her hand. He was polite, and after a few moments, she saw him nod. She got the sense then that he did know her after all. Blair watched as the blonde subtly flirted with him-wisps of hair tucked behind her ears, two, then three touches of her necklace above the neckline of her bathing suit, and one coy head duck/feign shyness look up through the bangs. She was good, and Blair was about five seconds from inserting herself into the situation when she saw Dan finally disengage, after at least two gestures in the direction of their spot on the beach. She was sure to keep her focus on the computer as he walked up.

"Did you finish your e-mails?" he asked, as he sat down next to her under the umbrella. He leaned towards her to check her progress on the laptop.

With his sudden proximity, she felt his warmth and the dampness on his skin from the swim, and doubled her concentration on the work at hand. "All are in progress. Just polishing. And I'm on item number eight of my revised To Do list."

"That is great. I think you should reward yourself with a swim when you are finished. Make that item one," he said nodding towards the ocean. "The water is perfect. Very relaxing."

"Swimming is not really my thing. I think you have had more than enough exercise for both of us today. Besides, you have dripped half of the Atlantic on me."

"Sorry about that." He scooted over a bit. "I am pretty tired. Today was my first two-a-day swim." He stretched out languidly, and then rolled onto his stomach. Head rested on his bent arm, he looked over his shoulder at her. "Do you mind if I just relax here while you finish up your list? Read it to me and I'll add anything that comes to mind."

"Relax away. I'll wake you if your blonde friend comes back to flirt with you some more."

"Who? Oh, that girl just now? That's Caitlin. She is the summer nanny for the three little kids next door. I saw them collecting seashells last week. She recognized me from NYU. Apparently we were in the same British lit class. Small world."

"Yeah, small world," she agreed. She smiled, satisfied with his nonchalant reaction that had signaled blonde Caitlin was a non-threat. Not that it mattered, she reminded herself.

She finished her e-mails, with a few suggestions from him. She returned her attention to the growing to do list and soon realized that it was with a somnolent Dan Humphrey as company. Quiet was atypical. Shirtless too. But she was not complaining. Asleep, his features were relaxed, making him look younger than his scant twenty years. How different he was in this regard than Chuck, who was forever playing grown-up businessman. Dan was exactly who he should be: a young, romantic, idealistic, twenty-year old college student; worried about the world and the environment, naive enough to think he could still make a difference. She often assumed anyone as nice as the Dan Humphreys of the world was either weak, or worse, stupid. But he was neither. She knew that now and desperately tried to retrofit him into her world that included the broad spectrum of dark and dangerous Chuck and cultured and refined Louis.

She started feeling like a stalker, just watching him sleep, so she made her way up to the house in search of some liquid refreshments, and shortly returned to the sleeping Humphrey. She sat back down beside him. She could no longer resist, and eased her hand through the curls that had fallen down his forehead. The salt water made them less than pliant, so she took a second swipe at moving them away from his face. He started to stir, eyes fluttered, and looked up see two brown eyes looking down at him, with her hand tangled in his hair.

"Hey, Blair," he said dreamily, smiling, and then wiping the sleep from his eyes like a little boy.

In that moment, she could not remember anyone ever being that happy to see her. There was no suppressing a return smile. "I would be madder at you for wasting time with a nap if you didn't look totally adorable right now. Here." She handed him one of his beers.

"Wow. Thanks. How long was I asleep?"

"Nearly two hours. It is almost 6:00."

"Hell! I'm sorry. He was up, scrambling now. Do I need to drive you to the Jitney? I think the last one leaves at 6:30."

"Are you trying to get rid of me, Humphrey? Did you make a date with Caitlin right in front of me? How rude," she gasped, in mock horror.

"No. Of course not."

"I have made arrangements for dinner. And...well...I wasn't sure how much longer you were staying out here, but if you are heading back to the city tomorrow or Monday, I thought maybe you wouldn't mind some company and I could just ride back with you? We could maybe work on my to do list and I could help you pack the rest of your stuff?"

"Blair-"

"Two friends. Helping each other out. It is what we do. Right?"

"Yes, of course. But only if you agree to a swim before we return home."

"We'll see. Oh, and your dad called while I was up at the house. He was calling to see if you survived Hurricane Blair."

"He didn't say that. Did he?"

"NO! I picked up your cell-you had left it on the table by the pool-when I saw it was him. Don't worry. I let him know I was answering so that he wouldn't say anything too incriminating. He said he was glad I was here-which, well, I'm not sure I believe-and asked that you call him when you had a minute. All very civilized."

"Clearly I should sleep more. You seem to get more done. I guess we should head back up to the house. But I'm leaving this umbrella for when we are down here tomorrow.

"Whatever, Humphrey."

No time to shower, he did change into a pair of khakis and a burgundy, short-sleeved, collared shirt and they were off to East Hampton. She even let him put the top down.

Blair had ordered dinner for them from one of East Hampton's Italian restaurants, but they would need to pick it up. And she had not packed any clothes, so he dropped her off at Tory Burch, with instructions to return 45 minutes later, tasked with picking up the wine and dinner.

Before heading into the restaurant, Dan remembered he owed his dad a telephone call, and called him from the car. Before his dad could ask any questions, Dan explained that he would be heading back to Brooklyn Monday. Rufus was glad to hear the news, but would not be deterred about the unexpected house guest.

"So, Dan, is Blair still there?"

Trying nonchalance, "Oh, Blair. Yes, she is up here. I mean not with me right now, but she was at the house earlier today."

"So she isn't with you?"

"Well, not right this minute..."

"Dan, what is going on? She woke us at in the middle of the night, hysterical. I couldn't tell if she thought you were dead or wanted you dead. Lily thought she was just worried about you not answering your cell. I know you are _friends_, but it left me uneasy."

"Everything is fine, I promise. She has decided to move the wedding to Manhattan. And to try and finish at Columbia this year. So we spent the afternoon working on her course schedule for the fall semester."

"That is it?"

"Well, no, we have some other tasks to work on with the wedding venue change. And she is going to help me pack up for the return. We'll be back on Monday."

"Wait, I thought you said she wasn't there?"

"No, I said she wasn't with me at the moment...I just dropped her off at a shop and I'm picking up dinner for us."

"So, you are about to have dinner. You helped her with her class schedule. Tomorrow, you are helping her with her WEDDING plans, and you will both be coming home on Monday."

"And she is going to help me pack. But essentially yes, that is what is going on here. Um, how are you?"

"Dan!"

"No, really Dad. I promise. Everything is fine. Okay?"

"Son, I don't normally do this, but I'm going to need you to call me tomorrow."

"Whatever. Okay. Listen I'm at the restaurant. I have to go."

"Dan? Dan?" But he had already hung up.

When he pulled up outside the shop, one of the store employees was standing at the curb. "Mr. Humphrey?"

Surprised, he realized she was addressing him. "I'm sorry. Yes, that is me."

"Miss Waldorf asked if you would please pick her up around the corner, in front of the Ralph Lauren store." The sales clerk seemed a little rattled.

"Are you okay? He was already out of the car, to collect the shopping bags. "Are these hers? How did she buy so much so fast? Here, let me take those."

"Thank you, sir. Please tell Miss Waldorf again how sorry I am, but we were simply out of swimwear this late in the season."

"Oh." Dan felt a little guilty about being the inadvertent cause of the fracas. "I'm sure it is fine."

He started to pull off, when he heard the sales clerk yell "Wait!" He turned and saw her rushing towards him. "I am so sorry. I nearly forgot. Miss Waldorf asked if you would put the top up on the car before you picked her up."

"Of course she did. Thanks for letting me know." Dan sighed, backed the car up, hopped out, and did as instructed. Blair was waiting for him when he pulled up five minutes later.

"You are late."

"No, I was on time when I pulled up in front of Tory Burch. That was before I had to put the top up and drive over here. What did you do to that poor sales clerk?"

"Don't make excuses Humphrey. And don't feel sorry for her. It is still summer, and the store was out of bathing suits. That is ridiculous. And I assure you when she gets her commission on what I did spend in 30 minutes in that store, the next time I walk in there, she will tackle the other clerks to get to me first."

"Unbelievably, you make a valid point. Did you find what you needed at Ralph Lauren?"

"I did, actually. Any problems at the restaurant?"

"No, everything was ready when I got there. And the waiter who brought it out to the car was appreciative of your tip."

"See, Humphrey. A good job was rewarded."

"Everyday is an education with you, Blair Waldorf."

"I could have told you that."

Back on the road to Southampton, he asked "Why did you want the top back up?"

She hesitated for just a second, but opted for candidness. "In the span of five minutes, I ran into two people from Constance in the store. And once they recognized me, other people recognized me from the papers...and pictures with Louis." She seemed embarrassed, and more than a little put out.

"Ah, the life of a princess. You better get used to the constant attention. And the adoration of your subjects"

"Gossip Girl is bad enough. But the European paparazzi are vultures on steroids, Humphrey. I managed to slip out and back to New York under the radar. And I realized today that there is a beauty to anonymity-and only when I realized I was on the verge of losing it. How is that for perspective?"

"Well, Gossip Girl has certainly prepared you for the scrutiny. But, I have to be honest. I don't envy you one bit, Blair. But your perspective is different than mine. You have learned to utilize Gossip Girl over the years. There has been a certain aspect of it that you may have enjoyed, at least in high school. And it has been a powerful weapon in your arsenal. But she does not play favorites. And neither will the press."

"We just need to be careful."

"Blair, I guess I should have asked before. Does Louis know you are here?"

"He knows I am back in New York. We left at the same time, actually flew out of Charles de Gaulle on the same day. He and his father are attending an economic summit in Moscow. His impending absence from Monaco sort of helped make my case on why I needed some time back home."

"But-"

"But to answer your question, no he doesn't know I am here, in the Hamptons. With you. But Humphrey, I don't know what he is doing right now, either. Well, considering the time difference, he is probably asleep. But you know what I mean. I just got my life sorted back out, Humphrey. Don't make me doubt my decisions."

"I'm sorry. That was not my intention. I just want to...know what to expect."

"Well, honestly, I would like to enjoy the next couple of days of peace and solitude. Because once we are back in the city, that will change. Word about the wedding changes will be released soon. In fact, I'm amazed the news hasn't leaked yet. We are going to be working discreetly to get the events moved from Monaco to Manhattan. But once word it out, Dan, you need to be prepared to have your picture taken if you are out with me."

Dan had just pulled the car into the garage. He shut the car off and turned towards her, as she finished speaking. "You don't mind that...I mean, that won't be a problem with any of the Grimaldis?"

"Laying low for the next day or two is a luxury, one I plan to take full advantage of. Beyond that, we have to get back to our lives. And we have nothing to hide. Serena, Louis, everyone knows we are friends. Hiding that fact would just make us look guilty. We've already learned that lesson once."

"Now, as for the paparazzi, the key is just to ignore them. What are they going to get pictures of? Touring a church? Walking out of the printers? Or the bakery? Boring. And normal. So they will say awful things about me, about you, trying to get a rise out of you. And you cannot react. Okay?"

"I promise to be on my best behavior. You act like I'm some sort of loose cannon."

"Well, you have been known to throw a punch a time or two in defense of a girl's honor-"

"I'm sorry, Blair."

"No, don't apologize for that. I also seem to recall you coming to my defense, not that I needed it, in a bar junior year."

Both of their phones starting buzzing before Dan could remind Blair that she also had his then-fourteen year old sister at that bar. As if to underline her concerns, the blast from Gossip Girl made her point crystal clear:

_Spotted shopping in East Hampton, one soon to be princess, but with no Prince Charming in sight. Where is Louis, B? And why all of the secrecy?_

"So much for staying under the radar for a few more days. At least you weren't spotted too. No offense."

"None taken. Should I drive you back to the city tonight?'

"No, I think we'll be okay here, for now. I'll just have to lay low for a day or two. Besides, they'll probably camp out in front of the penthouse by tomorrow morning. Best to stay put."

"Then I suggest we get your shopping bags up to your room, and have some dinner."

Dan carried her purchases up to the guest bedroom adjacent from his, the one where Serena typically stayed. He knew she would like the sunrise view over the Atlantic in the morning. She insisted on unpacking the new purchases immediately, so he set about reheating dinner.

He popped back upstairs, and tapped on her door. "Come in, Humphrey."

"I have everything warming in the oven. Do you want to eat outside again, or watch a movie?"

"What is this new obsession with outside, Brooklyn?" she teased. "Let's eat inside. We still have your stuff to pack up and my list to tackle. So no movie, at least not until we have something actually accomplished."

"Dining room it is. Do you need anything up here?"

"Apparently the magically restocking cabinets apply to the bathroom too. Toothbrush, soaps and shampoo..."

"Chanel #5?"

"Well, almost everything. But I have that covered."

His phone buzzed with on his way back downstairs with a new text message from Eric.

_Where r u? Still at S Hampton house? GG blast spotted B in E Hampton. Doubting the coincidence._

Dan responded, trusting Eric's discretion. _Still S Hampton House. Blair here since AM. Wedding will be in NYC. Changes to be made. Also plans to finish Cola._

Eric wasted no time responding. _Assume she is still marrying Louis, or is there something you need to tell me?_

_Yes, of course Louis. Friends having dinner. Just don't mention to anyone. B trying to avoid photogs and GG. Will be back Monday._

_Be careful, Dan. _

Dan tried not to react when she came downstairs, barefooted and in pajamas that swallowed her. "Not a word, Humphrey. I forgot to buy pajamas, so I am borrowing an old pair of Serena's. They look like they are from the seventh grade."

"I was just going to call you down. Dinner is ready." He couldn't suppress the grin any longer, and was rewarded with a punch in the arm.

"Wine, Humphrey. Now!"

"Take it easy. Everything is in the dining room. Including your wine."

An arched eyebrow was the only reaction he got from her upon entry into the dining room. Fine china, full place settings of silverware, crystal wine glasses and water goblets were all laid out expertly.

He suddenly felt foolish and shy, and knew he had done too much. He mumbled, "You were upstairs longer than I thought you would be, and, well, I guess my cater waiter training just took over."

She sensed his embarrassment, and held her tongue for once. Instead, she squeezed his hand and said, "Everything looks great. I'm just a little underdressed."

He smiled appreciatively, and held her chair for her, at the head of the table. He sat on her right.

She had ordered a feast: antipasto plate, caprese salad, entrees of linguini Bolognese and chicken Parmesan (both of which they shared), and cannoli for dessert. They were well into the second bottle of wine when the last morsels of cannoli had been devoured. She had insisted he eat the last one. "You are getting way to thin."

Blair shared stories from her trips to Rome, Milan, and Venice, including adventures when she and Serena were fifteen. Serena had once shared stories from that trip when they dated. Except for some of the same shopping overlap, they presented far different narratives. Blair described the wonder of Rome's architecture, including her overwhelming first moments in St. Peter's when she literally could not speak from the grandeur and scale of the basilica. "Look, I have goose bumps just talking about it...it is that amazing and monumental and grand!"

By dessert, she was lecturing him on his inability to get out of Brooklyn. "Never, not once? Not even to London?"

"Canada. That is it."

"Canada doesn't count, Humphrey. Haven't you ever thought about it?"

"Yes, of course. It was sort of out of the realm of possibility when I was fifteen."

"But you have no excuse now."

"Well, actually, I seriously considered going last summer."

"When Serena and I were in Paris?"

"You and she called from the limo, on the way to the airport. I think I was on a travel website before I was off the phone. I was interrupted...it just wasn't meant to be."

"What stopped you...oh, Georgina. That psycho bitch. I'm sorry, Humphrey. We have got to work on that naïveté'."

"Is it wrong to have a little faith in the human race?"

"Oh, Humphrey. With the Georginas and Juliettes out there? You are a babe in the woods. An easy mark."

"At least I don't have sheep on my pajamas."

"What? Oh...shut up, Humphrey!"

They cleared the table. She washed, he dried.

"So what is the plan for tomorrow?"

"Do you want to go back to the city tomorrow or Monday? It makes no difference to me, Blair."

"It is not like the printer or the florist will be open tomorrow..."

"So we will head back on Monday. Shall we watch a movie?"

"Maybe later. I still think we need to get something done tonight. Why don't we get you packed?"

"Are you sure you don't mind?"

"Glad to help...but you don't have to broadcast my packing services. Where do we start?"

They spent the next hour on what she quickly nicknamed the "Great Humphrey Scavenger Hunt," also known as pick up anything that does not look it was sanctioned by CeCe Rhodes because it must be Humphrey's. DVDs, books, magazines, pens and notebooks were corralled and sorted on the kitchen counter.

"I think there are a couple of boxes out in the garage. I'll get those for the books. Would you stick all of the notebooks and pens in my messenger bag?"

"I thought writers were more protective of their works in progress?"

"Well, other than a few observational exercises this last week, you are more likely to find doodles and movie notes I wrote prior to our film discussions."

"You made notes for those?"

"Well, Blair, I apologize for not having your spontaneous, sharp wit and laser-like focus. There is a delay between my brain and my mouth. Would you really want me rambling on and on? Even I know how loquacious I can be."

"You hold your own, pretty well. But I also see your point."

When he was back from the garage, Blair cleared her throat.

"I recognize that opening gambit. What is it? What have I done?"

"I pulled everything out of you messenger bag to put the notebooks in first...I didn't want to crush anything. I know it is none of my business, but what the hell are you doing with a letter from Vanessa Abrams?"

"Is that still in there?"

"Humphrey-"

"Blair, I haven't even opened it. She took something of mine the night of the Constance/St. Jude Fundraiser. You were missing, and Charlie was missing. She went to the loft looking for Charlie. She wasn't there, but she found...something I had been writing...and I realized a few days later that she took it. I haven't spoken to her since that night."

"God, she has a lot of nerve, after what she did to Serena. What did she take?"

"Um..."

"What, another short story? You are going to owe Serena some residual checks at some point."

"Not exactly."

"It wasn't the article for _Paris Match_, was it?"

"No, I told you I quit as soon as I saw you with Louis at Veselka. Besides, didn't you decide that was a set-up?"

"Then what was it? What aren't you telling me?" Her annoyance at Vanessa Abrams's ill-timed intrusion into their evening was quickly overtaken by concern as she saw the anguish on his face.

"Dan, what is it? You look like you are going to be sick. Come here." She grabbed his arm and dragged him into the living room. "Sit. Spill."

"I, uh, well, I wrote a novel."

"You did what?"

"I wrote a novel."

"When did you write a novel?"

"I have sort of been working on it for awhile."

"Was it for one of your classes? Why didn't you tell me?"

"No, I started a little earlier than NYU."

"How much earlier?"

"About five years ago."

"When we were in high school? Humphrey, you had me scared. What, you wrote some YA novel? Beverly Cleary? Judy Bloom? But for the hipster set?"

He did not say anything, just stared at the floor.

"The fact that you aren't talking, and you are never quiet, has me worried again. Tell me about this _novel_."

"Please, Blair. You are going to kill me."

"I am going to kill you if you don't tell me."

"Serena, Nate, my dad, Lily. They can't know, okay?"

"Alright...not making me feel any better..."

"Well, it is my take on the Upper East Side. You know, an outsider's point of view. School, parties, parents, trust funds, privilege-I sort of mined what I have witnessed since I started at St. Jude."

"What the hell, Humphrey? What were you thinking?"

"Blair, I was so miserable there for so long. It started as a coping mechanism. And so much was speculative because I was forever on the outside looking in. That is a miserable feeling. But then there was Serena, and my perspective changed. There was more understanding, but also more access. By then, I was so far into it that there was no turning back."

"So you wrote a tell-all novel, Kitty Kelly?"

"No, Blair, please. It is a satire. It is just my take. Come on. A glimpse here and there of a scandal or a fight that might have inspired a line of narrative."

"Humphrey, your dad is married is Lily Rhodes van der Woodsen Bass Humphrey. You dated Serena, for God's sake. Don't you think it is a little hypocritical for you to be judging the UES?"

"I am not judging, just chronicling and satirizing. You don't think I spared myself, the worst offender? Have you met anyone more self-critical? Look where we are, Blair. And I realize you think Brooklyn is the worst, but do you think I would be able to afford to stay in that loft, by myself, a twenty-year old college student, if my dad weren't married to Lily?"

"Do you know what you have done?"

"Why do you think I kept it to myself?"

"It was only a matter of time before that stalker she-devil with no boundaries came across it. You should have known that. Serena told me about her Houdini fire escape entrances into your loft. She probably watches you while you sleep."

"I'm sorry Blair."

"Oh, God. What did you write about me?" Her mind raced through the years of hell she put him through-verbal abuse and taunts, insults, intimidation, yogurt attacks, war with his little sister. And then she considered the scope of what he knew about her from Serena, and from the source herself. Somehow she always sought his council when she was at a crossroads with Serena, and even with Chuck. He had plenty of motive and rounds of ammunition. Now she felt sick.

"Blair, it isn't like that. I promise."

"Humphrey, we have to go to Brooklyn and get your manuscript immediately. Where are your keys? She has to give it back. Otherwise, you are going to call the police."

"Barcelona."

"What about Barcelona?"

"That is where she said she was going. I think the return address on the envelope is Barcelona. Definitely Spain."

"Tell me again what she said she was going to do."

"We didn't exactly talk about that over the telephone. I didn't know she was going to take it. I was at my dad and Lily's, she was at the loft. When I found out that she had read it, I was angry and told her as much. I tried to explain that I had no intention of doing anything with it-that my friends and family would be hurt, as you have already proved tonight. She insisted that it needed to be published. I told her to mind her own business, that it was my decision, not hers. But she took it anyway. She told me that an artist has to remain an outsider in order to observe and comment, and should not care what others think. And essentially that I had to ignore the fact that I would alienate anyone who meant anything to me-"

"That pretentious bitch. Humphrey, that right there sums up why Vanessa Abrams is destined to be alone. She would rather stand in self-righteous judgment of everyone else. You are the most faithful, forgiving person I know, and look what she did to you."

"Blair-"

"Stop. Don't you dare defend her. I don't want to hear about good intentions or that you have known each other since you were eight. She is either still in love with you and wants you completely separated from your friends and family, everyone who cares about you, so that she has you all to herself, or she is a sociopath. At least if she is a sociopath, lithium might help. Either way, stay away from her. I'm calling Cyrus in the morning. He'll know what to do to secure the return of your manuscript."

"Blair, please don't involve anyone else. Obviously, she never made good on her threat, or more likely, no one was interested in publishing it. You yourself have candidly shared your doubts about my writing ability or lack there of-"

"Don't do that. You know you are good writer, Dan. And even if a book publisher is not interested, if your name is on that manuscript, there are any number of other, less reputable publications that make money from publishing gossip. They'll put two and two together and figure out from whom you 'borrowed.' You are leaving a lot of people exposed if you don't get it back."

"I hadn't even thought about that."

"I told you we need to work on that naïveté. In the mean time, we are calling Cyrus. First thing in the morning."

"You are right, as per usual. Thanks, Blair."

"Don't thank me yet. At some point we are going to discuss what is in this book."

"I'm sorry. I don't know what else to say."

"This has been the longest day. Can we finish this in the morning? My head is splitting. I'm going to take a bath, and then go to bed. I trust you'll have coffee for us in the morning."

"Of course. Good night, Blair."

"Good night, Dan."

He made one last pass through the living room, the dining room, and outside by the pool until he was satisfied everything had been collected. He finished packing up his books, replaced all of the DVDs into their sleeves, repacked his messenger bag (leaving the offending Vanessa letter out on the counter), and moved everything to the trunk of the car.

Satisfied that everything but his laptop and clothes had been packed, he headed upstairs. He jumped in the shower and tried to scrub the worry off, to no avail.

He tossed and turned for over an hour, mind racing: Blair's sudden appearance, Columbia and a brief reprieve, beach and sea air, a drive with the top down, obscene amounts of food and an excellent red wine, then everything going off the rails with Vanessa and his book. He started to imagine the reactions of those closest to him, but mostly of what she would think.

Abandoning any hope of sleep, he picked up the television remote and soon found Cary Grant and Rosalind Russell to keep him company.

A tap on the door a few minutes later startled him. "Uh, come in?"

"I heard you turn on the television."

"I'm sorry. Did I wake you?"

"No. Bad dream took care of that. Is that _His Girl Friday_?"

"Yeah. It has only been on about twenty minutes."

"I think this is the only movie that could out-talk you, Humphrey. Mind if I join you?"

"Course not."

"Think maybe you could spare one of the six hundred pillows you seem to be propped up on, Queen of Sheba?"

"Certainly."

He sat-up and leaned forward for her to grab a couple. Only then, covers slipping down a few inches, that she realized he was shirtless. Again. "Humphrey, are you decent under there?"

"Wasn't expecting company. Pajama bottoms. I'll grab a t-shirt."

"No. Stay put. Don't disturb this little nest you have made for yourself."

"Besides," she thought to herself, "you aren't the one I don't trust."

With a pillow from him, she propped herself up against the headboard, with knees pulled up under her chin, arms around her shins. He was lying on his right side, propped on the sea of pillows, curved around to best see the television. It also put him near, for better or worse, her left hip.

After a few minutes, "What were you dreaming?"

"Hmm?"

"That woke you up?"

"Oh. Sometimes I have these dreams where I am in a movie."

"One of your Audrey dreams."

"How do you know that?"

"I think you said something about it at the Givenchy exhibit, I don't know, maybe seeing yourself in that ball gown in a dream."

"Oh. So, anyway, we were walking in the Colonnade and then started running. I realized we were being chased, so we ran into the Palais Royale. Except Walther Matthau had morphed into Vanessa Abrams, and she was leading this brigade of paparazzi."

"Again, I am so sorry."

"Lately, I have that dream, or a variation of it, all the time. Well, the paparazzi are usually there. You aren't. And Vanessa Abrams was a shocking new addition. Usually, it is Louis's mother, or more often lately, his sister, that is leading the charge."

"Did we get away?"

"I don't know. Woke up with us cornered in one of those footlight contraptions. Oh, by the way, you cannot pull off a trench coat."

He laughed unexpectedly. "Thanks, I'll try to remember that."

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

"What woke you up?"

"Haven't been asleep."

"But it is nearly 2:00."

"Writer's insomnia, combined with too much caffeine, probably." He left out tonight's primary cause, the wracked with guilt fear that you will never speak to me again part. "Exhaustion always wins out in the end. I'm usually on the sofa in the loft. So starting out in the bed is actually progress for me."

"What is wrong with us, Humphrey?"

"I gotta plead the fifth on that one."

He leaned his head back, eyes meeting hers, when he felt her fingers run through his hair. Once, twice, a third time.

"Blair?"

"Your hair is still damp," she remarked casually.

"Blair-"

"Sshh. Close your eyes and try to sleep." Four, five, six times. "Go to sleep. You know how the movie ends." (Please let me do this for you. For me.)

Seven, eight, nine, ten times.

He melted under her delicate touch. "Albany..."

"That's right, Albany after all," she smiled. "Poor Bruce. He never had a chance."

Neither said anything else. It had taken awhile, but she knew the moment he fell asleep, from the way his face and shoulders relaxed. Her arm tired, but she could not resist the soft mass of curls.

He sighed about twenty minutes into _The Awful Truth, _and she guiltily stopped when she heard her name said in his sleep. She thought of a hundred reasons she should get up and leave, yet she inexplicably stayed where she was. He shifted again, listing a little more towards her, pulling the sheet further down in the process, exposing those swimmer's shoulders she so admired that morning. Without thinking, she began tracing the contours of his shoulder blades, like a moth to a flame. Warm, smooth, firm-

"Is that Irene Dunne?"

"What?" She snatched her hand back at the sound of his voice.

"Sounds like Irene Dunne," he said sleepily, eyes still closed. "_My Favorite Wife_?" he asked.

"No, _The Awful Truth_. Ralph Bellamy, not Randolph Scott."

"Must be a Cary Grant marathon."

"Go back to sleep, Humphrey."

He settled back down, and she continued to watch Cary and Irene. She carefully rested a hand between his shoulder blades, and felt the rise and fall of each breath. Her eyes finally grew drowsy, soothed from the rhythm. She knew what she should do, but ignored her good sense again, pulling the covers back to lie down next to her slumbering Brooklynite.

He awoke near the end of _Gunga Din_, dreaming of her perfume and exotic lands. The dream was vivid and the sensation was so real. The answer was better than the dream. She was inches away, lying on her stomach, face towards him, with her hair splayed out on her pillow. Her left arm was tucked under the pillow, but her right arm was across the divide, on his pillow, her wrist the source of the perfume. Smiling, he closed his eyes and drifted back to sleep, satisfied that for once it was not a dream.


End file.
